Sight Through Spirit
by AmberPalette
Summary: The infamous Rezo, long thought dead, lives in two forms: in a jar, and in a body resurrected by Hellmaster Fibrizo. Which is the "real" Rezo? What are his real motives? And how will Zelgadiss react?
1. Prologue

**Sight Through Spirit**

**Another Slayers fanfiction by A. Stitt ("AmberPalette")**

Disclaimer: I do not own Rezo Greywers, Shabranigdo, Zelgadiss Greywers, Amelia Wil Teszla Seyruun, Ozer, Xelloss Metallium, Hellmaster Fibrizo, or any of the other characters of the anime and manga "The Slayers." These are the property of Hajime Kanzaka.

Most of my Slayers fanfiction centers on Xelloss and his love/hate interest from the third season of Slayers, Filia Ul Copt. But this time I wanted to write something different. After watching the first 13 episodes of the fourth season of Slayers, "Slayers Revolution," I became aware of how fascinating and tragic the character Rezo the Red Priest is. I decided to take a crack at a fiction surrounding his mysterious origins, his descent from sainthood to madness, and his hopeful redemption. Because the fourth season suggests that Rezo is, at least in soul-form, still alive, when long thought dead, I realized this character has again become salient to the current fandom.

I owe great thanks to Mallory Bellinghausen, Roxy Cybelle Gil, and Elise Nishikawa for the brilliant Slayers rpgs which inspired this fanfiction and encouraged it to continue.

Read and enjoy!

************************************************************

**Prologue**

_In the absence of martyrs there is the presence of thieves  
Who only want to rob you blind, they steal away innocence and peace.  
And I know they are wrong when they say I am strong  
as the darkness covers me.  
~Jennifer Knapp_

_"Faith is as fragile as glass." ~King Mvemba Nzinga, who became Alfonso I, letter to King Joao III of Portugal, 1526._

_**************************************************************_

He knows that sainthood is a lie. Because hate has visited him and wrenched him out like a bloody washcloth and left him stained. Like the Red that makes his name famous. He knows sainthood is a lie, but he wishes to whatever God still acknowledges his existence that he can still aspire to fulfill the expectations that sainthood demands. He wishes to just be good enough.

He shouldn't even be alive. That his veins course with a living pulse is itself an aberration. Lina Inverse killed him. No. That is not wholly accurate. Rather Lina Inverse asked his help to kill the very ma-oh that he rebirthed, the ma-oh embedded in his soul and oozing out his useless eyes…and when he accepted, the process necessitated his death.

Either way…he should be dead. Should be. But shoulds are useless, frustrating things.

In his wanderings through the endless dark mist that is his blindness, Rezo Greywers remembers much that was, and even more that should have been. And the thirst to repent makes his mouth as arid as bits of shredded up cotton.


	2. Those Who Were Great

**Chapter 1: Those Who Were Great**

"_I think continually of those who were truly great._

_Who, from the womb, remembered the soul's history_

_Through corridors of light, where the hours are suns,_

_Endless and singing. Whose lovely ambition_

_Was that their lips, still touched with fire,_

_Should tell of the Spirit, clothed from head to foot in song._

_And who hoarded from the Spring branches_

_The desires falling across their bodies like blossoms…_

_Near the snow, near the sun, in the highest fields,_

_See how these named are feted by the waving grass_

_And by the streamers of white cloud_

_And whispers of wind in the listening sky._

_The names of those who in their lives fought for life,_

_Who wore at their hearts the fire's center._

_Born of the sun, they traveled a short while toward the sun_

_And left the vivid air signed with their honor."_

_~Stephen Spender_

The man who came once every two months to the village square, year after year, was tall and slender, with perfectly linear features and dark, endearingly unkempt maroon hair.

He never seemed to age—and yet the creases under his eyes, the sharp line of his frown, spoke of an almost ancient wisdom. He was like an exquisite but careworn antique.

That face. Prominent people throughout history had that kind of face—magnetically calming and persuasive. It was lean, as though nourishment was scarce; it was pale, as though strained by some poetic, valiant effort; and, despite his gentle, dreaming smile, it was always, always, vaguely sorrowful. It was a haunting face, a fervent but soft face. Thin-boned and beautiful.

The face of a melancholic martyr. The face of one walking among, but not part of, a crowd. One incurably alone.

And he was blind.

Blind and, therefore, always adrift from his fellow human beings.

They called him Rezo Greywers, Houshi Rezo, or The Red Priest, interchangeably. He had hands for folding origami and a voice like the dark red velvet that ever clothed his thin frame. He carried himself with the longsuffering pride of one who has given up on oneself, one whom darkness has already swallowed or, perhaps, never relinquished, but yet, yet: one who has hope of prosperity for those whom he advocates.

Sometimes this man called Rezo came alone. More often he came with a raven-haired woman named Erisiel Vrumungun, his self-proclaimed "assistant," and a young apprentice who bore a striking resemblance to the priest. The boy, Zelgadiss, had the same gravely beautiful face, the same unkempt hair, and the same surname as Rezo.

The populace would gasp in disbelief at the whispers that this child was Rezo's great-grandson, for Rezo himself by all accounts barely looked 25. But so far as they knew, despite the deception of their eyes, Rezo truly had walked the Red Orb for over three centuries.

The child was his only living descendent, and no one dared ask why.

Zelgadiss spoke in a surly mumble and usually kept close to the red robe folds of his master and patriarch. The boy did not smile, did not laugh, did not cry. He hoarded his emotional ties and hid them well. He shied from the female assistant entirely but he eagerly accepted the occasional ruffling of hair or crooning greeting issued by the priest. He kept his pale slate blue eyes averted ground-ward. Quietly, fervently, he did Rezo and Erisiel's bidding: escorting the sick to Rezo's healing presence; mixing medicinal potions; discreetly guiding the blind priest to stray patients or to an inn where the itinerant group would rest for a night.

Occasionally the child strayed to the trees on the village's outskirts to swing an alarmingly sharp broadsword with a glistening gold hilt. Sometimes the child cried out a strange shamanistic incantation and the sword glowed red. Other times he would cast the sword aside and chant other peculiarities, and water from a village well, or fire from a tavern's torch, or the night air, or the earth under the boy's feet, would bend to his will.

Always, however, Zelgadiss seemed dissatisfied with his own remarkable skill. "Strong, strong, strong," he would chant, obsessively, beaded with sweat, while swinging his red-pulsing sword, as though exorcizing some unforgivable frailty inside himself.

His great-grandfather would turn his head in the child's direction during these times, and sometimes he would frown and the lines of sorrow in his youthful face would deepen. Other times, the weirdest of smiles would sprawl across Rezo's white face. Never, however, did he intercede and stop the boy's feverish chants. The Red Priest had even less compunction about allowing his young kinsman to wield a real weapon at an age shy of ten years. Nobody understood this; neither, though, did they question it, for they had seen nothing but benevolence and white magic from the hands of this living saint.

And then, one year, when Zelgadiss had turned fifteen, he did not accompany Rezo and Erisiel to the village.

And nobody asked where Zelgadiss was.

Nobody asked what had happened to Zelgadiss, and Rezo did not volunteer.

And while Zelgadiss moaned and writhed on the ground with a body blistered with chimera granite, Rezo kept healing the masses, and kept approaching a state of canonization.

Nobody knew that Ruby-Eyed Shabranigdo, the maoh and father of all demons on the Red Orb, had penetrated, tarnished, raped, Rezo's gentle soul. From birth until the grave: In fact, even after the resurrected Shabranidgo's legendary battle with the sorceress Lina Inverse, no one knew that it had been Rezo who had resurrected him: All they knew was that Rezo had died helping Inverse destroy the maoh. Nobody knew that Inverse, capable of greater mercy than most recognized, had decided to tell only the redemptive portions of Rezo's death, so that he did not die disgraced—for after all, he had never meant to unleash Shabranigdo on the Red Orb once resurrected. All he had wanted was the eyesight he could grant all others—but not himself.

And so Rezo's legacy remained a shining one.

And yet… nobody asked what had gone so very wrong between Rezo Greywers and his great-grandson: the great-grandson whom the remaining scraps of his soul always, always loved.

But nobody banked on the Red Priest's own resurrection, either.


	3. Regret

**Sight Through Spirit**

**Chapter 2**

"To hurt is as human as breathing." ~J.K. Rowling

"_It is not our abilities that show us who we really are, but our choices."_ ~_J.K. Rowling_

*~Eight years ago~*

It was the fourth day that Zelgadiss Greywers had been sent home with a recommendation from his teachers for home schooling. The boy was the most brilliant in his class, they stated, but he had a certain fixation on control, on power, and on autonomy. He wanted to be at the top and alone.

Sometimes this penchant for solitude manifested in positive ways: Nobody was more helpful and protective toward his weaker peers than Zelgadiss. But once he was done with his shepherding, he returned to his shell.

Rezo Greywers, his assistant Erisiel, and his great-grandson had, after long years of itinerancy, collected the alms from their benevolent deeds and founded a research facility. Though Rezo still traveled, he had enrolled Zelgadiss in a local private academy. He hoped, allegedly, to provide the boy some stability.

The stability wasn't taking.

It was eight in the evening after Zelgadiss's fourth school detention that the scent of incense, mulled wine, candle wax, and other accoutrements of the holy trade wafted up the stairwell of the craggy fortress in which the legendary Red Priest conducted his obsessive healing studies. Zelgadiss smelled his kinsman coming, and heard him too—heard his metallic staff of office jingling in approach. Like Rezo, he'd learned to hone senses other than sight.

Rezo sat down wordlessly next to the periwinkle-haired twelve-year-old. An incongruous smile perched on his lips.

Lately, that smile irrationally infuriated Zelgadiss.

"I hate being here," he blurted, hands balled into fists. "I hate the people here. I hate their stares. You're lucky. You're lucky because you never know their stares."

Rezo whet his lips slowly. He chose to omit telling the boy that being blind in no way exempts someone from feeling the unkind scrutiny of other human beings. The constant, sickeningly pitying, sickeningly condescending scrutiny. "Well then. What to do. I tell you what, Zelgadiss. My… imagination… provides greater solace than the real world in which I find myself trapped."

At this observation, the prepubescent was stonily silent.

"Perhaps," Rezo ventured further, as a peculiar embarrassment dawned on his face, "you might find solace in that place, as well. If not…I am here. I know I…I get…a little out of sorts these days, often in fact, and I…I let my melancholies and manias over my research get a little...out of…out of hand…but well…_never _around you, never _toward_ you, and--"

"Eris and Rodimus wouldn't even let me into your bedroom the last time you pitched a stupid fit. They said I'd cut myself on all the glass. Eris was all haughty about it, said I didn't 'understand.' You…you used to let me sleep under your bed when I had nightmares." The boy wiped his nose with a clenched fist. "I had a sleeping bag under there and books and a lantern and everything. When I was little. I'm not even ALLOWED in there anymore…"

Rezo gave a quaking sigh. "Zelgadiss, I…know. But. I am here now. And I will listen."

This was not the response Zelgadiss wanted. What he wanted was a return to a safer and stabler past_: the space under the bed is still welcome. The space of your childhood is still there to revisit. Even though there are dust bunnies and occasional obfuscations. _

Rezo failed to deliver this reassurance. Rezo broke the promise a parent is supposed to keep. Always, unconditionally. Rezo was blind now, and it had little to do with his eyes.

So Zelgadiss opened the floodgates of his scorn then and there. He wasted no time. He was after all a guardian at heart, and hurting at his favorite fragile thing's pain, and rejection, and distance.

"Tch. Stuff's different now. I can't make you smile for real anymore. I hate that _stupid fake smile_ you have, for everyone else. It's sadder than crying. It makes me feel like I didn't do what I was supposed to. _You make me feel bad_. Why don't you try anymore?"

The priest's face tightened. "My boy…" It was clearly a well-worn title for the preteen. But it sounded stiff. Guilt and unease stiffened him.

"There's always a 'BUT.' 'If ONLY I could see, THEN this or that thing that Zelgadiss worked his ass off to do for me would matter.' Never good enough. You don't even _laugh _now, you dumb old man. It's not your real laugh. That laugh's loud and…big and…like a blanket or something."

The guilt soured, to wounded anger. "I don't laugh because I'm tired, alright? And I do _not_ qualify the things you do to show me your love, Zelgadiss. Never. Those things ARE my happiness."

"You can spew sermons at me now but it's just a decoy. I don't want you to go away but you _are_. You're leaving me. I don't need anyone else but you're the one leaving."

"What? Where am I going?" Bewilderment momentarily replaced anger. Rezo cocked his head. His paper-thin white skin formed creases between his dark eyebrows. "I'm _right here_…!"

"You always wait until it's too late to do stuff like this." The boy was grateful for his hedgehog-like bangs, which obstructed view of his eyes. They were moist.

"Like what? What am I doing too late?"

"Like comfort me. Like give me advice. You're not being my dad, you're just playing the role when it's convenient. I bet your blindness research has hit a brick wall, huh?"

Now it was Rezo's turn to fall silent. The sting of the child's uncannily cold words was thick and almost suffocating. Perhaps especially because there was truth in Zelgadiss's rebuttal.

Zelgadiss was relentless. "I already imagine things, Gramps."

That particular word—"Gramps"—had a remarkable effect on Rezo. He emerged for a split second from his devastated blankness like a ladel had been dipped into hell and had come up with his saved soul floating in it.

Then the preteen elaborated: "Like a world with my parents alive in it."

Rezo's face fell again.

"Like a normal life, and a home that stays put. Like having my own wishes granted instead of playing nurse to…" Zelgadiss stopped talking then. He twisted his bedsheets in his hands.

Rezo choked. He swallowed the bitter tang in his throat and gathered his resolve, his composure, about him like the folds of his red velvet robes. "Zelgadiss, you have a good point or two, but I never…nothing is more important than…"

"Than what? ME or your EYES? You just…you! You just FAKE that caring so people will like and accept you! You're AFRAID of being unimportant and disappearing! I'M HERE. I'M HERE, I always HAVE been! Why do you have to SEE? You're important to ME."

Silence. The stale silence, the weary silence, that falls between two people who are used to an argument that is endless, that has lost the bloodrush and the novelty, an irreconciliable argument.

"I am not so repulsive as you depict me, Zelgadiss." Rezo was not acting when his voice shook.

"You're no saint, either!"

"No! …no. I'm not. No human is. But I give them what they want, to assure happiness. And hope."

"How heroic. I'm going to cry."

"You're far too young for such world-weariness."

"Just stop trying, Rezo. Stop teaching at me. Stop trying to save me. We're only connected by blood."

"Then why don't you leave me? Hm? Why don't you just stab me in the back now, boy?" The words were hasty and Rezo immediately regretted them.

Zelgadiss's reply was equally swift. "Maybe I _will_."

Another silence. But this one was taut. Electrical.

Rezo's whole face twisted into a fearsome grimace of pure, barely controlled fury. Like the milky sheet of monastery vellum now totally crumpled, marred by a frantic quill pen. "You," he breathed, "had better decide _right now_ if that is a _serious _challenge."

"_It is_." Not a moment's hesitation. Only a taciturn tossing of the gauntlet. That was Zelgadiss's style. No unnecessary elaboration.

Something inside Rezo's head took over. Hummed. Like his brain was full of hot coals banging about and sizzling and screaming. Wanting out. Wanting out. _Wanting OUT_. Like the coils of a spiderweb, _squeezing_…

_Do it_, said a voice that wasn't Rezo's. _Do it, ruin him, teach him a lesson. Hurt him, do it. _

It wasn't until he'd struck the ground with his metallic staff, and it tinkled, that Rezo realized he'd been clutching his head and moaning.

_He is just a child_, Rezo's own voice insisted.

_He is impudent_, spat back the other voice.

_I already killed them. _

_Who?_

_You KNOW who!_

_You did what you were meant to do. He will be of use to you in your quest once you—_

_No!_

--break him.

_He is my kin!_

_Your eyes are still closed. Aren't you tired of it, Rezo?_

_I am not blind! Not that way!_

_He does not care._

_Yes he does! He cares TOO much. That's why he's hurting..._

_He will never listen. He will never care. He has hated you from the start. His blood calls out for your misery. He rebels now and always will._

_Please no. Please no. He is all I have left. He is my only family left. _

Hurt him.

_No._

_Impure becomes pure when the goal is itself pure._

_Madness._

_Hurt him._

_NO. _

_Break him and he will be yours to use._

_SHUT UP! GOD DAMN YOU, SHUT UP. _

_BREAK HIM IN TWO AND LAUGH, REZO GREYWERS. _

_I SAID NO. I SAID NO! _

_BREAK HIM AND SEE!_

_NO!_

_SEE! _

_NO, NEVER. NO!_

A third voice, outside the clamor, outside his mind, interjected. "Wow," rang the cruel, sleet-cold words. "I never knew you cared." Zelgadiss was standing over him; he could feel the boy's breath on the top of his head.

"I SAID NO, GOD DAMN IT!" Rezo howled, like a tortured dog.

"No, _what_?" came the teen's falsely pitiless scoff.

Rezo rolled onto his side on the hard cold dusty floorboards on which he found himself somehow collapsed. He panted. "F-funny…perhaps I ought to start believing in things like…karma…"

"You're batshit." Zelgadiss snorted. "Absolutely stark raving mad. Good gods." And behind his eyelids Rezo sensed the light shifting, the shadow lifting, as the boy moved away and back to his bed. Without offering him a hand up.

"Please help me, Zelgadiss…Help me stand…"

"Get up yourself. I've got to go. Don't wait up for me."

Rage came quicker to Rezo that time, and he was choking for air again as the specter of Shabranigdo plunged his psyche a second time in ten minutes… he didn't let himself think before his hands curled around his staff, and his staff reached out and struck Zelgadiss, a shattering blow across the boy's cheek, for the first and last time.

A nauseating moment passed, with the sound of something thick dripping. The sound of smearing. Blood. Zelgadiss's blood, from a split lip, and his young hand shakily wiping it.

In that moment Rezo's own contriteness was excruciating. "Oh no. Oh Zelgadiss. I didn't m—"

"I wish it was them. I wish I'd known them. Not you. I don't want anything from you_. I don't want anything anymore._ Just _leave me alone_." Such a robotic recital of hate, and then Zelgadiss's steps announced his flight from his bedroom. But then, "I…I'm…" and that voice on the brink of a baritone squeaked, broke to the tender soprano that still marked Zelgadiss a child. A child bluffing his toughness. "I'm gonna…" The sound of floorboards creaking as weight ambivalently shifted.

"Don't leave me," Rezo mewled in reply. Reaching, scrabbling at the air. Blindly. "Don't leave me. I'm sorry, we'll fix this. We'll fix this. Please. I love you, okay? I'll do better. It's my fault, you're right. I'm the adult and I've been...I'll do better."

A thread of possibility hung tenuously between them with his genuine shame.

But.

"You can't fix everything," Zelgadiss choked out his verdict. And then he turned and ran. And ran and ran. And, though he returned later that night, cold and wet from a midwinter rain, he never stopped running from Rezo thereafter. There was a small scar on his cheek from the single blow his great-grandfather ever dealt him. The greatest and bitterest irony was that the curse Rezo cast on Zelgadiss, transforming him into a chimera two years later, would cover up that scar with a chunk of magicked hematite.

That day, that day that Rezo struck Zelgadiss and Zelgadiss started running, Eris was out procuring medicinal ingredients for another of Rezo's experiments. He was alone in his rocky fortress, his research institute, his castle. Alone, as always, and alone he crawled to Zelgadiss's bed, and alone he pulled himself onto it, and alone he sat with his sick head in his fragile hands. Making red footprints with the blood of his great-grandson, which he had shed, which he had wanted to protect.

Why was it always so twisted and wrong, his intent to fix things?

That was the moment when entertaining thoughts of Zelgadiss's pain and frustration held pleasure for Rezo. Sheer sadistic unadulterated pleasure. The moment when a living saint's blood began to run tainted.

And it was the moment that Rezo faced the fact that, in certain crucial ways, he was weak.

Then he realized what he was thinking, and that it wasn't really him thinking it, but That Voice that kept coming anytime he felt anything particularly sincere or tender toward Zelgadiss. As if That Voice wanted to interfere with that devotion.

That evening, Zelgadiss slunk, proverbial tail between legs, into Rezo's bedroom. He hunkered down under Rezo's bed. He slept there, in his dusty, too-small sleeping bag. Rezo said nothing, but reached down his hand and tucked some of the boy's messy wet hair behind his ear. That ear flushed pink, and the boy leaned just slightly into the man's paternal touch. Then Rezo fell asleep, and as he was prone to doing, mumbled pleasant nonsensicalities all through the night. Zelgadiss lay awake smiling and listening to the quirky, deep-voiced lullaby that was Rezo's muttering, and that was what sustained him in believing in Rezo again completely for the next two years, before everything between them broke.

Eight years later, Rezo woke up on a roadside, still blind as the "batshit" that Zelgadiss deemed him to be, screaming in terror and agony. Screaming from the remembrance of that first night when he gave in consciously to the voice inside that was not his own.

Funny, that. It was like he always knew Ruby-Eyes was in him, a piece of Ruby-Eyes, but only in the faintest darkest recesses of his consciousness. Only in the dank corners of his mind did he allow himself to acknowledge that he was possessed by a ma-oh, a demon lord of demon lords. It was like constant double-think: His actions were his, but they weren't. His choices his, but someone else's.

His crimes unforgivable, and yet inevitable.


	4. Intersections

**Chapter 3: Intersections**

It began with a very ugly jar.

Well not really (though the jar _was_ ugly—a bit on the moldy side, with a large unfriendly eye stuck in the center).

It neither began nor ended with the jar. But the jar was very important. The jar and its owner changed everything.

Folklore called it the Hellmaster's Jar. It could hold souls the way Hellmaster Fibrizo could, little gold spheres with a personal universe inside them. In fact, the jar's original owner was probably just that mazoku lord.

It also (kind of) began with a disease.

Doctors called it the Durum Disease. And they scoffed at holy men and their futile efforts to fix it.

The Hellmaster's Jar and the Durum Disease intersected at a small, obscure, politically unfavored kingdom.

Maps and census officials called the kingdom Taforashia.

The scoffing doctors and the little kingdom did not expect Rezo Greywers and his Hellmaster Jar to visit.

Some time after the explosive argument with his great-grandson, Zelgadiss made a habit of going missing when Rezo wanted him to come with him on a healing journey. One such time, Rezo instructed Eris to care for Zelgadiss, left home, and passed through Taforashia. There he met the feisty, diminutive prince, who flung around the nickname Pokota, and the prince's friend and personal guard Duclis.

In the process Rezo sieved off a certain percentage of his own soul and placed it in the Hellmaster's Jar. He invited Pokota and Duclis to do the same. He transferred their infected bodies into the bodies of a rabbit and tiger beastman, respectively. Standing over a glowing, billowing Runic seal, Rezo spoke of a spell that would place the slumbering bodies of Taforishia's diseased masses into protective crystal barriers, until which point Pokota and Duclis could find a cure. When they did, Rezo would break the barriers and the people would revive, to receive their cure.

And then, quite unfortunately, Rezo, the world-famous healing Mage, died.

Impressive story. But what is the point of telling you all of this?

Simple. The shard of Rezo's soul placed in the Hellmaster's Jar ensured something. Something big:

At any point in time, Rezo Greywers, killed and caught in some limbo between Red Orb and the heavens, could be resurrected.

All because of a very ugly jar.

And before we discuss the first event, we left off at the second event in our last chapter.

Let's resume our story.

He woke up on a roadside screaming. His throat was like percolated sandpaper lit on fire, so hoarse with other screams that he could not remember emitting. "Am… I dead?" The question sounded absurd even in his hysteria. He tried to laugh, but instead his stomach heaved and he vomited into the dewy grass of the frighteningly new, fresh morning.

The last thing he remembered…pain, pain of indescribable magnitude and duration. The feeling of flesh rending like a tarantula's tentacles piercing out from inside a peach. The agony of organs twisting, grinding, and exploding. A nauseous squelching, thick dark red drizzling from the cruel alien appendages that violently sprouted from his neck and spine and shoulder blades and belly. Degrading, humiliating anguish, before the horrified eyes of his enemies, which no amount of begging could cease. Shrieking "I CAN SEE, I CAN SEE, I CAN SEE," desperate glee even while being devoured by the parasite that had raped and raped him.

Glee quickly snuffed, just like the bloody red vision, which offered just a glimpse of five pairs of revolted eyes.

The last thing he saw in those fifteen seconds of the eyesight that he had always craved, of the world that he had healed and walked through loving and longing to know, the last thing he saw….was a face in the center.

A beautiful boy's face, blemished by clusters of shiny hard things. And Zelgadiss's imploring, reasoning voice belonged to that face.

Rezo remembered thinking at that peculiarly still, serene instant in the swirling, torturous madness, _Oh…that's my great grandson. That's my boy. I lost my boy. My boy. _

Then all went black, and Rezo realized his mistake. His truly monumental error in judgment. His selfish myopia. And oh God. Damn. Damn damn damn. It was too late to reverse it. This was no chemical mixture in a laboratory test tube. This was the fate of the world, which he had forfeited for himself. The lives of the masses, which he had saved uselessly, all to die. The love of a kinsman, which he had brutalized.

He'd been blind in ways with no relation to his eyes. He'd been blind. Blind, blind, and incurably blind.

Rezo had asked an absurd question then, because he'd forgotten, really, why he had ever wanted this: "WHO ARE YOU?" Pressing his fingers to his eyes, squeezing shut the lids, as all the pain in the universe seemed to settle thickly on his retinas.

Shabranigdo had laughed, a deep mirthless guffaw like darkness itself shuddering, like the last shaking breath of life, like the stale air in a tomb. "I am the one whose rebirth you sought."

Had he? Had he really ever sought something so unspeakable? But hadn't he wanted to slay Shabranigdo with a Zanaffar the moment the ma-oh was resurrected? Hadn't he researched all the possible wrong turns for years? Hadn't he double checked everything?

When had it gone wrong, his stupid, quixotic dream? His maimed plan? How had he blundered into the destruction of the whole world? Idiot. Idiot!

Rezo had screamed then, probably the first scream of thousands, and the reason why his throat was so ragged now. A broken sob of "NO--" meant for no one but himself.

His skin was on fire.

And then cool. Calming placid cool. Peace, and after it, a sudden peak of bliss. Light. No form to the light, only infinite light. Light everywhere. Inside and out, cleansing, and Shabranigdo was no longer a part of him. No longer his master.

As though through the muffling of a closed door, Rezo had continued to hear the battle raging between his fellow humans and the monster lord. Nothing spoken seemed to register…he felt like he was lying adrift on a gentle, tepid tide. Resting at last. A part of him knew that if he drifted off, he would never return. But he didn't care anymore. There was nothing to lose by his departure.

Hours passed, days passed. Time became irrelevant.

And that was when the voices got louder again. He tried to ignore them…he just wanted to sleep, and forget how much he now hated himself.

But that was when Rezo heard Zelgadiss calling his name.

Zelgadiss, whom he thought he had lost forever. He frowned and forced himself to concentrate on the words uttered.

"Do you really wish to destroy the world you so longed to see? Rezo!" His boy. His boy…! Zelgadiss, with his sword swinging, strumming his guitar that Rezo gave him one Christmas and singing impromptu melodies with his pensive, lilting young voice, a child sternly ordering Rezo every evening to eat more, work less, while standing in oversized flannel pajamas, Zelgadiss plotting vast maps of territories around Rezo's research institute with his compass and going on ambitious long hikes, Zelgadiss eating warm thick oatmeal every morning with Rezo before Rezo left to heal strangers and maybe even laughing a little bit at some horrible nerdy joke Rezo made, Zelgadiss huddled in Rezo's library reading for his voracious mind, Zelgadiss whom Rezo loved.

Zelgadiss whose parents Rezo had killed, because Shabranigdo had willed it, to be awakened inside Rezo's eyes.

Zelgadiss. Rezo owed his whole self to this boy whom he'd robbed. Zelgadiss, who suffered the same fate as Rezo, because of Rezo: Isolating himself from the human race in order to cure a painful ailment, putting that cure above all else. No. He could not have his boy put through what he endured.

Rezo would not allow that. This was where their twin destinies would reach a fork, and part, for the salvation of Zelgadiss.

"He's hesitating!" came the braying voice of Lina Inverse. "Shabranigdo is hesitating! That means Rezo's soul isn't totally consumed yet!"

_Oh?_ Rezo, lying on the cleansing sea tides of light, mused, almost idly. _Huh. That so?_ _Then I'm still here. How unexpected. I thought I would sleep…_

And Zelgadiss cried out again: "Rezo! REZO!" Just his name, but every time he heard his boy say it, something long dormant in his chest fluttered, and swelled until it ached with urgency. "REZO!"

_My boy. I'm coming. _

And then Lina Inverse was railing on about choices, and making them swiftly, and pleading for Rezo's help, and then she was casting the incantation for something that was disrupting the entire fabric of the astral plane. Rezo felt himself pulled out of Shabranigdo by the navel, a lurching dropping sensation, but he embraced it.

_I'm coming. _

"_GIGA SLAVE!" _Inverse bawled.

Rezo emerged from Shabranigdo's chest…floating on a glowing white wave, confronting the ma-oh head-on. What to even call this monstrosity that he had exhumed? "Dark Lord," Rezo crooned, causing the repulsive black and red thing to recoil: in fear.

"Don't interfere!" the thing growled.

Rezo smiled, and opened his eyes. It felt like salvation. The Giga Slave blazed toward the both of them from behind. He didn't turn. "Oh no. I have chosen. You must be destroyed."

_Because my boy called for me, and I must atone. _

And the sublime warmth, the light, shot out from him, and that was when the Giga Slave, too, impacted, and tore asunder, Ruby-Eyed Shabranigdo.

And that was the last thing Rezo remembered.

And now he was at a roadside screaming and vomiting in grass.

Why had he returned?

Had his penance been insufficient? Was this some hell designed to be just like the living world he had never been allowed to see?

"You're not dead, if that's what you're thinking." It was the voice of a child, peppered with an incredible snideness. An amusement, almost a delight, in his suffering.

"…Who are you?" Rezo chafed at asking the same stupid question twice in so short a time period. Or had it been short?

"You've been dead for ten years," the sinuous kid-voice replied. "But your great-grandson is still a rock-person, which is kinda funny, and more importantly, you stole my jar. So I wanted to bring you back and yell at you for snitching it, because I could, after all."

A pause. Rezo remained dumfounded. Jar? What jar?

"Boy, you're a slow one." A snicker. And then the voice added, "My name is Fibrizo. Give me my jar. And tell me where father is."


	5. Lost?

**Chapter 4: Lost?**

Not to confuse the reader, or leave you dangling from a hideous cliffhanger…but at this juncture, we need to backtrack a bit.

We need to discuss Rezo's relationship to the kinsman who convinced him to help Lina Inverse destroy a ma-oh.

Zelgadiss.

Because we all want to believe that Rezo was a depraved maniac, and Zelgadiss was a tortured hero. That makes telling the story of the Greywers family far simpler. But let's not be ridiculous. They were only men: human, with fantastic foibles, and ugly virtues, and lots in between. Both of them beautiful patchwork quilts.

Until he was twelve, Zelgadiss accompanied Rezo on every single healing journey. Shy and painfully idealistic, with a penchant for a prickly exterior and soft caring interior, Zelgadiss rarely made eye contact with Rezo's throngs of believers. But there was no doubt that the child was proud of himself and of his caretaker.

It was only when he hit the double digits that Zelgadiss started to feel trapped under the guardianship of a so-called "workaholic cripple." A lot came to pass beforehand. And even at their most strained of times, Rezo was Zelgadiss's sensitive visionary, and Zelgadiss was Rezo's protective logistician. They took care of each other. Always.

Skeptical? Keep reading.

When Zelgadiss was four, and traversing some tired and dusty road with his great- grandfather's caravan, he curled his fingers around the lower registers of Rezo's staff. He did so struggling to reach the tall adult's cadence. And when he did this he would sigh, chirp "chinnnk" to mimic the sound of Rezo's staff-tip, and call Rezo "Gramps." Rezo would break into a foolishly happy smile and measure his pace. He tried not to let it be obvious that he was helping Zelgadiss gain on him. Because Zelgadiss hated feeling like he couldn't keep up. Zelgadiss was a stubborn tyke.

When Zelgadiss was five, Rezo bought him a guitar and told him that to harness music was to understand the joys and sorrows of the human condition. Zelgadiss learned to play that guitar marvelously. He would play a song in some roving, melancholic melody considered savant for his age. He bartered such songs for a bedtime story in a tattered book of fairytales in Braille. Always cast as the Herculean hero, Prince Zel the Valiant, of course. Rezo, with that same stupid, happy, rare grin, made sure of that. And after Zelgadiss fell asleep, Rezo would brush back his charge's messy navy hair from his face, and he would press his lips to the child's soft powder-scented forehead, and he would murmur "bless your head, bless your eyes, my boy," as though to write that protective prayer onto the child's skin with the words from his lips. Because he loved him. And then Rezo would slip from his home and go to his secret laboratory in Old Sairaag, and toil for long hours until morning, obsessively, and sometimes in his frustration and despair it was easy to forget the small miracle whom he had left peacefully sleeping and wholly trusting him. Perhaps that was why he forgot that he needed something like the bond he had with Zelgadiss, at that time, far more than mere eyesight. Perhaps.

Keep reading.

When Zelgadiss was eight, Rezo showed him the majesty of the galaxy. They charted stars and constellations together. Zelgadiss was his great-grandfather's eyes—"give me the look of that system 48 degrees north, my boy, and let us connect these glowing dots that represent whole worlds!"—and Rezo taught him how to plot his location from any given point with the help of a protractor, a sheet of paper, a quill, and those stars. "So that you will never be lost," Gramps explained. And that was when Zelgadiss and Rezo began Zelgadiss's shamanistic sorcery training together. A Brass Demon interrupted one of their sessions in a remote field outside of the city. Zelgadiss cast his first Ra Tilt that day, destroying the demon, and saving Rezo's life. "So that I never lose you," he explained. He only felt a little awkward when these words moved Gramps to quiet tears. And he was only a little stiff when Rezo enveloped him in an embrace, and the familiar smells of candle wax and mulled wine and incense and ink hanging from Rezo's robes flooded his nose.

When Zelgadiss was nine, he demanded that Gramps tell him where the hell he was going every night after bedtime, damn it. Rezo said "Don't say 'hell,' Zelgadiss, it's a rude word." Zelgadiss said that Rezo was changing the point and he wasn't an idiot, you know, Gramps, and after all, I heard those words from Dilgear, you know, Gramps. Jeez, Gramps. Rezo laughed—an abrupt, incongruously loud, lusty bawl of "AH HA HA HA," clapping his hands together once, a bawdy and cavalier streak so unlike his usual serene, chaste self. The sound always made Zelgadiss blink and smile. And then when Zelgadiss wouldn't budge, Rezo admitted where he was going—a laboratory where risky hybridization experiments not necessarily condoned by the Sorcerer's Guild were taking place. There was a really neat library too, underground, full of amazing books, but there were also golems and other scary things, so no following. But Zelgadiss was not repulsed. He wanted to see, he insisted. Gramps said no, firmly, and left. This was the first time that Zelgadiss ever became angry with Rezo, because that day was his birthday. And Rezo never showed up to spend the day with him. Zelgadiss didn't like sitting in an empty room full of crepe paper, hats, and cake. All expensive, all any little boy's dream. But no one significant to spend it with. And so Zelgadiss withdrew further into his own self-imposed shell. Rezo came home by bedtime with an apology for "losing track of time with an experiment," and a particularly expensive gift to atone. But Zelgadiss had locked his bedroom door.

When Zelgadiss was ten, Rezo taught him mischievous things like how to pick locks. This came quite in handy one day when Rezo forgot to cast his heart youthening spell and got stuck in a safe having a heart attack, writhing and moaning on the cobblestone floor. Zelgadiss used one of Eris's bobby pins to unlock that safe and save Gramps's life. Zelgadiss never spoke of the frightening event, aside to deem it a "long story" fit for "another time," to his current comrades Amelia and Xelloss while scouring Alto and Baritone. However, on that night a decade earlier, the ten-year-old hero wept and wept and clung to Rezo's robes while three other mages, among them the famed Luo Graon, cast spells on Rezo's faltering heart. Zelgadiss never forgot how it felt to have his world-view's very symbol of stability and certitude so abruptly threatened. For years after that day, he found himself involuntarily tensing whenever Rezo mentioned his left arm being sore or his breathing being a bit labored.

When Zelgadiss was eleven, Rezo let him into his research laboratory regularly—but not the secret one, only the one at home. Zelgadiss got a kick out of playing with the gunpowder, much to the chagrin of Gramps. He learned how to shoot clay pigeons most adroitly with one of Rezo's "gun" contraptions. This was when it became clear to Rezo that Zelgadiss had a penchant for orchestrating dangerous situations, and deriving satisfaction from the care and caution he could then practice with to escape those situations unscathed. It was more than being a thrill-seeker: It was like Zelgadiss wanted to prove to himself that he had the strength and ingenuity to escape any scrape, however dire. At other times, Zelgadiss would filch hundreds of Rezo's glass pipettes and test tubes, and line them all up in a precarious fortress-like structure. He would practice with his sword in this sea of glass, allowing the hazard of being cut if he ever made a mistake. The glass never fell or cut him. But the whole concept…Rezo began to regret having a sword particularly attuned to the Astral Vine spell commissioned for his young kinsman.

When Zelgadiss was twelve, he followed Rezo to the secret laboratory. Rezo knew. He turned around and stood waiting for Zelgadiss to leave. Zelgadiss stood five paces from him staring right back. They stayed there until dusk. Rezo told Zelgadiss to stop being overly ambitious and to go home. Zelgadiss told Rezo to stop doing things he was so ashamed of that he couldn't share them with his great-grandson. Rezo said nothing, but led Zelgadiss home. The next day they had their first explosive argument, over some absurd small thing that neither of them could remember even days later. Like a catalyst, this argument led to hundreds more, which became bitter, tarnishing habit. Rezo became more melancholic, moody, sanctimonious, and self-absorbed. Zelgadiss became more taciturn, aloof, closed-off…and self-absorbed. Ultimately these altercations elevated to the incident wherein Rezo drew a kinsman's blood striking Zelgadiss with his staff.

That was when Rezo started to have disturbing, agonizingly lucid visions of alien forces controlling him. Of two red eyes. Of being pierced forcibly by black tentacles. Of his granddaughter and her husband dead on the ground, and Rezo himself standing over them, and thick stinking red on his hands, and a forlorn cradle in it, with a navy-haired infant boy crying into sick silence….of his own guffaws piercing that silence and his own mind thinking frantically "Why the hells am I laughing?"…

Rezo started having difficulty discerning what was real memory from what was nightmare. Spiraling, while Shabranigdo laughed inside Rezo's skull and derided the one person, the one thing, keeping the Red Priest precariously held back from diving off the ledge, shedding his humanity…

When Zelgadiss was fourteen, he got into his first swordfight and almost killed his opponent. Rezo healed his opponent and publicly reprimanded Zelgadiss that murder was not a burden Zelgadiss should ever seek to carry. Zelgadiss smirked angrily, tears in his caged gray-blue eyes, and demanded to know how Rezo was so sure of this. Rezo blanched and wandered away from the scene of the altercation, leaving puzzled murmurs in his wake. Zelgadiss was simply glad he'd hurt his great-grandfather back.

When Zelgadiss was fifteen, he and Rezo got into a fight over Eris and what Zelgadiss saw as her clingy, obsessive tendencies—even more so, her desire to get Rezo more and more entrenched in ethically shady magical research in Sairaag. Rezo refused to disown Eris, and Zelgadiss stormed out of their home. He found a local peasant girl whose last name he never learned, the daughter of a tavern owner who was desperate and lonely. And he lost his virginity to her, to get back at Rezo. "If you can sleep with whomever you want without caring about anyone else's feelings," he spat in Rezo's devastated face, "then _so can I_! I hate you too! _I HATE you too_!"

He found out later that night from his vassal and best friend, Zolf, that Rezo had never slept with Eris due to her young age: that, in fact, Rezo knew that Eris was problematically attached to him, and was trying to break it to her gently that he didn't reciprocate quite so intensely. With his juvenile outburst, Zelgadiss had maligned Rezo, and devastated Eris. Eris took Rezo to that damnable secret lab and said some unforgivable things about Zelgadiss. Rezo told Eris to recant her spiteful words, because no one was more devoted to him than his great-grandson was. Eris refused, and called Zelgadiss "the wedge between them." Rezo left Eris in Sairaag and broke up with her entirely. When Zolf told him all this, Zelgadiss felt like, as the saying goes, a shit-head.

Almost there.

Two days later, Zelgadiss left to raid some bandit hideouts in the mountains, with Rodimus, Zolf, Noonsa, and Dilgear. That year, the year Zelgadiss turned fifteen, Rezo had launched a program for feeding and healing orphans whom outlaws had disenfranchised. Zelgadiss put his heart and soul into that crusade: for Gramps. That morning that they left to make two raids, Zelgadiss baked a chocolate cupcake and left it on Rezo's bedside table. Rezo—infamous for his love of chocolate and its ability to boost his bucket capacity—awoke to that cupcake right by his pillow, and ate it. While licking icing-caked fingers, Rezo happily wept. Because that cupcake was Zelgadiss's way of saying, all wrapped up in one culinary peace offering, "I'm sorry, and I didn't mean it."

Zelgadiss came home the next morning with his bandit-bullying comrades and two sacks full of bread and fresh meat. Rezo was standing at the village gray stone chapel healing some little boy's white cat. Rezo was smiling and he looked alright. His head tilted forward and he smiled more broadly. "Zelgadiss," he said. Some weight in Zelgadiss took flight from his chest and he leapt into the air with the spoils in each hand, gave a whoop of joy, and descended upon Rezo in an embrace. Rezo nestled his face blindly into his boy's sweaty periwinkle hair. "Thanks for the cupcake," he murmured, and Zelgadiss mumbled back, "Missed you."

Fifteen minutes later, Zelgadis and Rezo had a crucial conversation.

We'll come back to that conversation later in this story, reader.

The next morning Zelgadiss and his vassals set out again for their second bandit raid. Zelgadiss was wounded. He refused to go to Rezo and bother him with "mere scratches." Hating his weaknesses, hating his insufficiencies, wanting always to be all that Gramps needed, he drew his broadsword and took out his rage on an oak tree trunk.

That was The Moment. THE Moment.

Rezo snuck up on Zelgadiss from behind. Overhearing Zelgadiss's grunts and moans of "stronger, stronger, stronger," as Zelgadiss hacked away at that tree, so unforgiving of his own foibles, so afraid that he would let down his sensitive elder, whom he had already hurt too many times.

Rezo heard this, and Rezo…smiled.

"I will grant you your wish to be stronger, Zelgadiss."

Zelgadiss turned. Time froze.

Rezo raised his hands high, arched his back like a cobra, and turned his great-grandson into a chimera: a third-ratio mixture of rock golem, brass demon, and the human base which was Zelgadiss himself.

It was anguish.

At about that time, Zelgadiss stopped calling Rezo "Gramps." Stopped, and never started again. Every gesture between them lingered with a leery doubt past repair: almost as if Zelgadiss were dodging some other agonizing magical "gift" that Rezo wished to impart. And Rezo wasn't smiling that stupid adoring smile anymore. In fact, Rezo wasn't smiling.

Still Zelgadiss, spurned by neighbors, rejected from tavern, park, and town alike anytime he revealed his now-repulsive face, stayed by Rezo's side. Rezo had been Gramps, the clouds in Zelgadiss's sky, giving it nourishment, character, shape, and support—sometimes swelling with rain and thunder, sometimes light and wispy and whimsical and gentle. But always there. Rezo had been home. Rezo had been purpose too. The person to protect, serve, be counseled by, and believe in. Difficult to abandon.

One year later Zelgadiss learned the REAL reason why Rezo had transformed him into a twisted crusty echo of what he had been. Rezo reduced Zelgadiss to his first full-thrust chimeric test on a human subject.

To learn whether combining the physiognomies of multiple species might yield an altered bodily state, with opened, seeing eyes.

To seek Rezo's own cure.

That was when Zelgadiss could have said, "I hate you too," and actually _meant_ it. And even then, a part of him could not. Like lungs rejecting air. He could _not_ with _every_ fiber of his being hate the man that had been Gramps.

Two years later, Rezo died.

Now you're with me, reader. Now you get where these two beautiful, tragic men from the same family stand. It's far from tidy, something like this. If you pay attention to the rest of this story, there will be nothing but further confirmation of that fact: Love, and people, and living, and families, are exquisite messes. But they are so worth wading through.

And so when Lina Inverse told Zelgadiss that Shabranigdo, not Rezo, had done all those horrible things, and Rezo was the real prisoner…Zelgadiss stopped in the middle of the road and balled his fists, and Zelgadiss snarled, _"Do you honestly expect me to believe that?"_

Because he couldn't think of the guitar.

"Do you, Lina?"

Because he couldn't think of playing in Rezo's lab, and Rezo laughing so indulgently.

"Well, do you?"

Because the guitar hurt and Rezo's face so gentle and loving hurt and the shaman training with Rezo hurt and the lock picking with Rezo hurt and the tattered old Braille book with bedtime stories hurt and he felt weird thinking of the goodnight kisses on his forehead and he felt sad thinking of Gramps and Gramps lied and left him and Gramps healed everyone but hurt him and Gramps! Fuck, god DAMN it Gramps, why did you do that Gramps Zelgadiss will never feel right somehow, in some profound place, because you died and went away and so much fell from the heavens unanswered and will stay that way Gramps, Zelgadiss loved you too.

_He loved you too, Gramps. He loved you, too. And he never said so. And you came back and killed Shabranigdo when your boy called your name, why?_

_Come back again now, he hates you. Come back and stay. He never hated you. Never. He did, he never. Always, never. He can't remember anymore, he got lost after all. _

Zelgadiss held his head for a moment and let bleached-haired Lina and clueless Gourry walk on ahead. Zelgadiss held his head and took ten seconds to mourn from his very core.

_Come back, you son of a bitch. Come back._


	6. Under New Management

**Chapter 5: Under New Management**

_(Author's Note: Hooray for Xelloss cameos! )_

_When I was a young boy,  
My father took me into the city  
To see a marching band._

He said, "Son when you grow up,  
would you be the saviour of the broken,  
the beaten and the damned?"  
He said "Will you defeat them,  
your demons, and all the non-believers,  
the plans that they have made?"  
"Because one day I'll leave you,  
A phantom to lead you in the summer,  
To join The Black Parade."

Sometimes I get the feeling she's watching over me.  
And other times I feel like I should go.  
And through it all, the rise and fall, the bodies in the streets.  
And when you're gone we want you all to know.

We'll carry on,  
We'll carry on  
And though you're dead and gone believe me  
Your memory will carry on  
We'll carry on  
And in my heart I can't contain it  
The anthem won't explain it.

A world that sends you reeling from decimated dreams  
Your misery and hate will kill us all.  
So paint it black and take it back  
Let's shout it loud and clear  
Defiant to the end we hear the call

To carry on  
We'll carry on  
And though you're dead and gone believe me  
Your memory will carry on  
We'll carry on  
And though you're broken and defeated  
Your weary widow marches

On and on we carry through the fears  
Disappointed faces of your peers  
Take a look at me cause I could not care at all

Do or die, you'll never make me  
Because the world will never take my heart  
Go and try, you'll never break me  
We want it all, we wanna play this part  
I won't explain or say I'm sorry  
I'm unashamed, I'm gonna show my scar  
Give a cheer for all the broken  
Listen here, because it's who we are  
I'm just a man, I'm not a hero  
Just a boy, who had to sing this song  
I'm just a man, I'm not a hero  
I! don't! care!

And though you're broken and defeated  
Your weary widow marches on

Do or die, you'll never make me  
Because the world will never take my heart  
Go and try, you'll never break me  
We want it all, we wanna play this part (We'll carry on)  
~My Chemical Romance

**~The Present~**

"…Fibrizo." Rezo was astounded at his own gravity. Rarely did his psychological states emerge in the way he spoke—that was the price of being a healer and a counselor for 350-odd years. But he was still impressed by his own ability not to sound utterly panicked.

Because, after all, he was terrified.

Hoarse though it was, his voice adjusted swiftly to its habitual tenor of warm, velvety serenity. "As in…the Hellmaster. You."

"That's correct. And the funny thing is, I'm supposed to be dead too. Gotta love those astral hiccups."

"…Am I meant to believe that such an 'astral hiccup' is what resurrected me?"

"Hardly. That was a joke, stupid. Father called me back, and I cannot disobey Father. It is as simple as that. Father beckoned me from the Sea of Chaos because there are so many webs now. Plans and trickery, and a need to sort them out in His name. And I need my jar back to do so. So I woke you up too. Give over the jar. And tell me where Father is. Because I KNOW He's around here somewhere. He called, and you had Him in you. Where did you put Him?" Now it was the newcomer who sounded anxious.

Rezo almost burst out in fringe-hysterical cackles at the mental image this bratty sermon conjured: Having "put" Shabranigdo, a behemoth of black spikey crustacean-like miasma and charred sinew, down somewhere, like a cup of coffee. "I'm…" His voice trembled with the effort not to laugh. "I'm sorry, but I haven't the faintest clue. And what's more, I'm _glad_ I don't."

"You watch your mouth, human." The childlike assailant stooped over the mage now, and his breath on Rezo's cheeks and forehead was unnervingly cold. It smelled faintly of pomegranate juice. "No one has the right to deride Father that way."

"So that's how you think of it?" Rezo was feeling reckless, because he was supposed to be dead, peacefully sleeping. He was irritated at being awakened to the dark world that had imprisoned him for over three centuries. Maybe Shabranigdo had called Hellmaster Fibrizo, if he really was that exalted mazoku, back from the Sea of Chaos, but there was no reason to trouble a broken-down, blind old man that way. Shabranigdo had asked far too much of Rezo already. He had stolen Rezo's joy, and his family, and his whole meaning, and had made those things worthless. "You think of it as your _pater familias_? For you, and your fellow lords? That thing that wants all life wiped away?"

"Shut up, Greywers. You're supposed to cooperate. Get up and follow me."

Rezo smiled weirdly, twistedly. "Sorry if I'm not following the master plan. I'm rather bad at that, it seems."

"Get UP, I said."

"Why?"

"Because I'll kill you if you don't."

"You'll have to think of a better reason. I _want_ to be dead. And I deserve it. I've outlived my purpose. Outstayed my welcome."

A long pause. Then, as Rezo imagined a young face crinkling with puzzlement, "That's…unusual."

"Well? Were you _bluffing_, little boy? Or will you kill me?"

The next retort was feisty: "I am NOT a CHILD!…I just look that way to fool my pawns."

"Oh, aren't you?" Rezo bawled out a harsh, pained laugh. "Well, I'm something of a scientist, and all the empirical evidence stands against that claim. You're small, you're egocentric, and you're naïve. Go away."

"GIVE ME BACK FATHER!" A shriek, wholly untempered by the self-assurance that had been paraded. Desperate.

Rezo had the strangest sensation, thousands of icy sighs just like the speaker's all around him, swirling in circles, in curiously spherical bursts, brushing his face and tattered body. Souls: which, according to the revered tome called _Ars Goetia_, manifested as cold, fragile golden marbles, the playthings of the demon Astaroth—Hellmaster Fibrizo. He'd memorized that book cover to cover. There was no doubt about it.

So a real mazoku lord was indeed accosting him. Not a hoax, the real thing.

This only made Rezo angrier. "I don't HAVE your _disgusting _demon lord in me ANYMORE! He's THROUGH with me, you selfish little bastard!"

"Don't call me selfish..!" Something in this accusation had made Fibrizo lose his gusto. Had petrified him. His voice trembled like torn tissue paper in an arctic breeze. Tiny hands—small but iron-strong—gripped Rezo's neck like a vice. "All that I live for is to serve Him! I think only of Lord Ruby Eyes! I'm different from the others…from Dolphin and Zelas and Grausherra and stupid stupid Gaav…I was born to serve, only…only to serve!"

Rezo was not sure what changed in that instant, but pity came to him unbidden then, washed over his rage and revulsion and drowned it all. Pity for this creature who, like him, had inconceivable power and yet subordinated it always to serve someone else. This creature who, like him, felt value wholly contingent upon his ability to deliver to others what they wanted.

Fibrizo caused chaos and destruction to feel Shabranigdo's favor, to gain his approval, to have meaning, even to exist. It was no different for Rezo, who was a crutch for millions of sick and despairing humans, dimmed in their hopelessness, clinging to his robes over the centuries and begging to be miraculously "fixed." And so Rezo had "fixed" them, their glazed eyes, their broken backs, their canker sores and their fevers, and earned their praise, and in earning it, a man who was otherwise a blind cripple felt he existed, and somehow mattered. Even earned a little fame. It had been hard, and yet so rewarding. And so fixing people became Rezo's obsession.

One a killer, the other a healer. Yet neither of them even knew whom he really was, without that ceaseless drive to serve. And it had sent them both reeling into madness.

Rezo wasn't thinking of anything else aside this disturbing similarity between himself and a mazoku lord when he blurted, "I don't know where your jar is right now. I only recollect using it for the ill in a kingdom called Taforashia."

"Well it must exist, and part of your soul must be in it, human. Otherwise it would have been very difficult for me to wake you up. I'd have had to sieve through millions of golden balls…"

"Look. I know that. The point is…I'll help you."

The pause that followed was gravelike. Panic rose in Rezo's throat and he hastened to take back his risky commitment. "I—"

But then Fibrizo lifted the tall old human to his feet in one sweeping show of force, and smugly said, "Good. Follow me. Eugh. You smell. And you look horrible."

"Thank you," Rezo dryly retorted, regaining his ability to breathe.

Unseen by the priest, the mazoku's spiteful emerald eyes narrowed. "You're one of those people that never shout, aren't you?

"I try not to."

"Yeah. Because you looked like you hated yelling at me. You looked lame at it. Like you're out of practice." Fibrizo took a fistful of Rezo's tattered velvet robes and yanked him along down the dirt road toward Sairaag.

Rezo tried hard not to stumble over all the brambles and boulders which his soft leather shoes did little to deflect. "It's not kind to shout."

"Ha! Yeah, I figured. You still care about stuff like 'kindness' after what you did. That's so funny."

Rezo bit his lip and fell mute. Of course the Hellmaster was right about him. But the Red Priest wasn't keen on adding to his list of offenses against humanity, however small. Regret gnawed at him like a hungry beast.

"Your great-grandson is even stupider than you. He's trying to love and trust people again after the things you did to him. Like that little witch from Seyruun. He carries around one of her stupid little pink and blue armbands on his drinking gourd, unless they're joint at the hip secretly ogling each other. It's disgusting. What a fool."

"Don't bring Zelgadiss into this, or any of his beloved," Rezo hissed. "He's been tormented enough."

"Ooo. I found your red button. That'll come in handy." The mazoku lord stopped abruptly, as if some fellow traveler had bumbled into his way. Rezo pitied whoever that traveler was.

Then Fibrizo chirped, "Ah, Xelloss. At last Zelas has condescended to loan you out to me again. I've been paging you for hours. As you can see, I have what I need."

_What, not whom_. Rezo ground his teeth at the cruelty of the Hellmaster's thought process, but prudently reigned in his animosity.

The air shimmered an incandescent magenta-violet, and filled out in the form of what appeared to be a beautiful-faced boy of twenty. His build was slim and gently toned, and he had pageboy-cut hair of an iridescent purple-black hue. His eyes, like Rezo's, were closed, but at mention of the priest they snapped open in alarm. From the casually alert air that surrounded his movements and dress, one got the feeling he was unused to being caught off guard. Those eyes, amethyst, were keen, calculating, and bright. Their cat-slit pupils dilated for a moment, and then quickly contracted as he pulled his face into a bland, unreadable smile. Faint dimples imprinted in his clean olive cheeks as he purred, "Yes, Lord Hellmaster, I noticed your company." He cocked his head. "The genuine article, is it?"

_It!_ Rezo's nostrils flared, but he continued to hide his indignation. He had the weirdest feeling he was being gawked at by this newcomer.

"Oh, tasty," Xelloss drawled, evidently of Rezo's negative emotional nourishment, with a high giggle. That laugh was disarming in a way, because it was the most ridiculous sound of clucking chickens and imbalanced circus clowns, but at the same time it was frantic like the yelps of a sick wolf, and very, very cold. Goosebumps broke out along Rezo's arms. "His righteous indignation has the same flavor as Mister Zelgadiss's. He really is the real thing, isn't he, milord?"

Rezo stiffened.

"Of course he is, buffoon," Fibrizo snapped. "I never make mistakes…never…"

Xelloss said nothing in response, and Rezo learned right there that this demon, whoever he was, was a smart one, and a diplomat to boot.

Then it dawned on him. "Wait, you serve Zelas Metallium…then you're…the Lesser Beast?"

"That's me!"

Oh, spectacular. The most unpredictable, volatile mazoku servant in the annals of modern magical history. Legendary for his lethal efficiency, and his deceit. Bloody grand.

"From the Koma War…the Dragon Slayer…"

"I prefer a less provocative title," the wolf demon interrupted, almost hastily. "Just call me Xelloss."

Rezo considered making a nasty quip about "red button issues" in the spirit of Fibrizo's earlier remark. But he wasn't that crazy, so he just nodded. "I suppose one day karma will deliver you a dragoness to fall in love with," he crooned instead.

Well. Perhaps he _was_ that crazy.

Unseen by him, Xelloss's face twisted sharply, for an intense millisecond, before again smoothing. "I will assume that you're not as well informed, or as confident, as you are pretending to be, Mister Greywers. Look at you. You can hardly stand."

"So what's her haircolor, old boy?" Rezo parried, giving no quarter, and effectively quelling the wittiest demon on Red Orb. Something in his velvety voice turned icy.

Xelloss's lip curled appreciatively at the verbal blow, one straight to the loins, which he took with aplomb. "Gentlemen prefer blondes, 'old boy,' " he sneered, inadvertently baring very white, very pointy, fangs. His fingers tightened around his gnarled wooden walking stick.

And Rezo's tightened around his, shiny sleek and metallic. The four auxiliary rings dangling from the top of his seeing staff jangled against it, singing a high haunting ditty as he did so.

"You're a lot like your great-grandson," Xelloss flung back acidly, his smile broader still. "A snotty self-absorbed little son of a bitch who's all talk and swagger and angst. A delightful meal to be had every time I see him."

"Thanks," Rezo growled. "Any comparison to my boy is a compliment to me. But you're in error. He's worlds better than I could ever be."

"Oh? 'Your boy'? A lot's changed since you've been decomposing, ne?"

"Listen, Xelloss!" Fibrizo cut in impatiently. "I don't care for that yellow-skinned lizard of yours. She's too highfalutin and she's too dramatic, and she uses that stupid mace too much, and she makes you act all dull and domesticated like some daddy to that mint-haired dragon brat. Anyway, stop sparring with Rezo. He's being cooperative for the time being."

Something very dark flickered behind Xelloss's eyes at the insult to his mysterious "blonde," but he bowed in deference to his current master. "As you wish. Yare yare, Lord Rezo, I must say, the legends about you are all true. A force to be reckoned with."

"You are too kind, Dragon Slayer," Rezo hissed.

Xelloss's smile never faltered. Apparently he'd girded his loins this time. "Where to, Lord Hellmaster?"

Fibrizo looked bemused, like a kid who'd watched the same puppet show too many times, but still enjoyed it. He tossed his messy tumble of inky shoulder-length hair. "Take him to Sairaag. I'm going to stage a little maudlin scene that Rezo, dear sainted Rezo, cannot refuse. To cover my own ass, and make my human disguise more complete, of course."

"Of course," Xelloss agreed placidly.

Rezo wondered if he was witnessing a classic evil villain monologue. Then his stomach soured as he further contemplated whether he had ever delivered one at the height of his desperation and madness. He had a bad feeling he might have.

"Come on, sunshine," the voice of Xelloss cooed in his ear, followed by that same disturbing giggle. A precise grip pressured his arm, and he had the feeling of being sucked into a spatial vacuum stomach-first, his ears violently popping. A teleport.

It was then that he began to pray, his fate once more out of his hands.


	7. The Return

**Chapter 6: The Return**

(_Author's note: The character "Ash" is © Elise Nishikawa AKA "GaavnoMayuge" and is used with permission. I endeavor to do him justice, both in the general sense and in the Amelia sense. ^_^)_

_"What will be left when I've drawn my last breath  
Besides the folks I've met and the folks who've known me  
Will I discover a soul-saving love  
Or just the dirt above and below me_

_I'm a doubting Thomas  
I took a promise  
But I do not feel safe  
Oh me of little faith_

_Sometimes I pray for a slap in the face  
Then I beg to be spared cause I'm a coward  
If there's a master of death  
I bet he's holding his breath  
As I show the blind and tell the deaf about his power_

_I'm a doubting Thomas  
I can't keep my promises  
Cause I don't know what's safe  
Oh me of little faith_

_Can I be used to help others find truth  
When I'm scared I'll find proof that it's a lie  
Can I be led down a trail dropping bread crumbs  
That prove I'm not ready to die_

_Please give me time to decipher the signs  
Please forgive me for time that I've wasted_

_I'm a doubting Thomas  
I'll take your promise  
Though I know nothin's safe  
Oh me of little faith" ~Nickel Creek_

_***********************************_

"Welcome to the City of Ghosts, Akahoushi Rezo!"

It wasn't Xelloss, Rezo's escort, who delightedly boomed these words. Three seconds out into their physical destination, with Rezo experiencing a violent case of vertigo, _and_ with Xelloss still iron-gripping Rezo's sore arm, _and_ amid the clangor of saws, hammers, and wheelbarrows…some damnable construction worker assigned to the rebuilding of New Sairaag had already accosted the mage.

Exhaustion crept up as the resurrected human, hungry, confused, and despairing, struggled to politely listen to his assailant. The only visible evidence of Rezo's physical and spiritual agony was a small thin crease that formed between his fine eyebrows, and two more matching creases under his eyes. The natural thinness of his bone structure and the pallor of his skin tone only emphasized this expression, but few people ever inquired after it. It was just a frown, right?

Right.

"How thrilling to meet you, milord, a Wise Man of the Age, and here in this decrepit city that so desperately needs your aide!" the boisterous man continued. "You've vanished for well over a _decade_ and rumors of your death disheartened _many _on Red Orb…"

"I'll be over there until the fanclub's subsided," Xelloss murmured. The right corner of his mouth twitched at the rebuilder's jovial energies. He withdrew, aloof and nondescript, to a pile of two-by-fours, where he calmly sat and crossed his legs.

The man, whom Xelloss had swiftly pegged for some kind of working-class greenie, was sturdy and muscular, but he had the gentle face that one rarely associates with a hard-edged manual laborer: a face of patience and a face of simple faith. The face of a very good listener. He had untidy curly hair that sprouted from a hat made of tan burlap and hemp, and the smell of rain-moistened soil clung to his clothes. His smile was encouraging and radiant, pitifully wasted to Rezo's blind eyes. "Your eyes are opened!" he pressed, apparently oblivious to Xelloss's caustic dismissal. "Does that mean you can see now, Lord Rezo?" Rather comically, he waved a hand in front of Rezo's large, fawnlike, grieving brown eyes.

Now Rezo was _certain_ he wanted to escape this conversation. "No," was all he said, trying not to sound too resentful, and his voice shook only slightly. "I can't see anything. I never could and I never will." He turned to rejoin Xelloss and await the Hellmaster, crimson robes billowing behind his form, which retreated with grace despite its misery.

"Wait!" the man exclaimed, to his dismay. Oh good, a pushy one. Rezo had known a lot of pushy ones in his years wandering Red Orb. They always wanted a favor. This one probably had a dying grandmother or something. He would probably scream in Rezo's face, his congeniality quickly lost, when Rezo discovered he could not heal her mysterious illness, because it was just her time. The pushy ones were always fake about their happiness to meet Rezo. They always wanted to use him, and his rare failure to help fix something or someone made them descend into a selfish rage. Rezo hated the pushy ones, and the guilt they always caused him to feel. And he hated himself more and more every time a pushy one hated him.

But this man just put his hand on Rezo's retreating shoulder, and squeezed. "Wait," he repeated softly. "Forgive me. My question was insensitive. I just wanted to make a proposition. To serve you. As your vassal. What do _you _need, Lord Rezo?"

Rezo gasped, frozen in place.

_What…do YOU need…?_

"Because…I have the feeling nobody ever asks you that. And you look very…very tired."

Xelloss gave a little mewl of curiosity, cocking his head as he watched the two men interact.

Rezo grimaced, fighting the strangest urge, out of the blue, to weep. Was it relief? Gratitude at this stranger's kindness? He didn't turn. Didn't admit to the feeling.

He couldn't get someone this compassionate involved in his new mess. He couldn't do that again to a good person. He'd been selfish for three hundred odd years. It was time to break that habit. "I'm not interested," he forced himself to say, "but thank you for your offer. You seem a very nice man. What is your name, so that I might remember your kind gesture?"

The man's voice was startlingly sad, now. Worried, somehow. As if he had known Rezo for ages and Rezo had just confessed to having terminal cancer. "My name is Ash. I live here in Sairaag. Don't turn me down just yet. I'll come back and make a proposition to you again, later today. Think on it, Lord Rezo."

And then the hand left Rezo's shoulder, and Rezo was alone again. He trudged numbly to the pile of two-by-fours and set down his staff between himself and the Lesser Beast.

"The tide of sycophants and flatterers has ebbed," Rezo quipped, seating himself beside Xelloss. He couldn't stand the man, but he had no one else to call his companion now. Dilgear was missing and had always been a dimwitted, ruthless mercenary anyway. Rodimus and Zolf had betrayed him and had, he vaguely recalled, died fighting Shabranigdo. Most of his other allies and minions had deteriorated to the state of hired banditry, disreputable fellow magical researchers, and worst, demonhood. As for the two people of whom Rezo had been fondest, he had treated them abominably: he had abandoned Eris and been cruel to Zelgadiss, all in the crusade to cure his own ailment. He had the guts to face neither of them. The thought of his unmitigated solitude made his stomach drop. He tried to entertain a less disturbing line of thought.

Thankfully, or perhaps unfortunately, Xelloss interrupted his rumination pretty fast. "You know that the lovely Ozer is trying to get the Hellmaster's Jar destroyed, right? Hm, Ozer. Rather sounds like your name spelled backwards."

Rezo was silent for a long moment. "…You're observant."

Xelloss scoffed. "Oh, tut! It's elementary, ne? You also know, don't you, that Ozer's arranged for Zelgadiss to meet you in Vezendi? And that dear Zel is, forgive the pun, hellbent, on getting to that ugly little urn you swiped from Lord Fibrizo before the rest of his colorful band of friends—including your old pal Lina Inverse, the crown princess of Seyruun, and the crown prince of Taforashia—do?"

_Incredible!_ Rezo's heart vaulted into his throat and choked him.

_Zelgadiss_…!

How in seven hells could he stand before the person who had the most right in all the world to loathe him, and not buckle and fall under the weight of that incrimination?

He wasn't ready for that. And he didn't want to taint Zelgadiss with existing, if his boy had moved on past his shadow and flourished. Damn it all, he didn't.

"W…Why are you telling me all of this?"

"I like being the monkey wrench in everyone's plans. It's fun watching their faces when they realize chaos is at the heart of the human—nay, the universal—condition." Xelloss inspected his fingernails through his pristine white gloves: a characteristically smooth, and absurd, action.

"So you're doing this just for the sake of screwing things up—even for your own superiors?" Rezo's expression fell flat.

Well, no one could accuse Xelloss of being noble.

Xelloss's smile was even more distant, elusive, than usual. "Perhaps. Or maybe I've a personal investment in keeping the heartbeat of this world ticking. You just never know, Akahoushi Rezo. You just neeeever know."

"A personal investment? Mm. Your blonde, and her child?"

A pause. Then the demon said something that, to Rezo, sounded remarkably rehearsed: "That's a secret."

Right. Rezo sighed. "So why are we in Sairaag, if I'm supposed to meet Zelgadiss in Vezendi?"

Xelloss laughed that goosebump-inducing laugh, only shorter and haughtier. "Who said anything about him meeting _you_?"

"But you just said—"

"_You're_ not the you that he's going to meet. Hehe, rather awkward concept, ne?"

…_Oh gods._

"…You aren't saying…"

"Oh yes, I'm saying it alright. You've got another copy of yourself running amok, Mister Greywers. Taking the credit for being the original you with gusto. Droll, isn't it?"

_Oh shits. Oh hells and damn. No._

Rezo's ears hummed high and loud. The ground rushed up to meet, to harshly strike, his forehead and left cheek. All the air left his belly as the unforgiving hard earth struck it as well. He tasted blood in his mouth from a split lip, cut from some bit of debris. No, a cluster of rocks. Hard as a golem's skin. Ironic.

Xelloss whistled, hoisting the Red Priest back onto his feet. "Sorry. I forget how old you are for a human. I guess you're kind of fragile, ne?"

The demon had no idea how fragile. Or maybe he did. Demons were sadistic like that. "Just…tell me why we're in Sairaag," Rezo choked.

"Because Lord Hellmaster wants to make you publicly his. And his alone. He wants to own you, as Lord Ruby Eyes owns him. It is all he knows. Remember that, Red Priest. Remember that this is all Fibrizo can ever comprehend. Ownership and servitude, and none of the complexities of human relationships, human…attachments…that I am frequently able to observe and study, and that you, dear Rezo, and your many patients, experience. He is a mazoku lord, remote, withdrawn from such things, unlike you and I. And so he will publicly claim you as his, in the city that knows you best. In the city that your copy, and Fibrizo himself, have both scarred."

"...How…?"

"DADDY!" It was a shriek of glee. Perfectly choreographed, perfectly acted. And a small form, with the scent of pomegranate juice and the sensation of little choking icy golden orbs—the form of Hellmaster Fibrizo—latched onto Rezo's arm. Greedy little fingers clutched at his robe sleeve. A greedy little voice sang, "Daddy, where did you go? I've missed you!"

The rumbling of a presumptuous, nosy gathering—a crowd—immediately filled Rezo's ears. "Daddy?" "Rezo Greywers has a young son?" "I thought all his descendents were dead except the great-grandkid!" and other mumbles barraged him.

They were being watched.

"Ah," Rezo breathed, "I see."

"No you don't. You're blind. Better claim me, 'daddy,'" Fibrizo chirped in his ear, with a cruel titter. "And then we're hitting the road to find my jar. And you're mine. And you'll do whatever I want. Or these people, all of them, are dead. These people who still exalt you. These people who don't know the nasty things you did, the dirty things. They'll all die because Rezo was too selfish again. Because Rezo thought about himself and didn't say yes to the Hellmaster. So you'd better say yes, Red Priest."

The sound of a crackle-pop, a whirlwind, an electrical socket, air sharply condensing and expanding.

Rezo yelped and groped at the air to his left. Xelloss was gone.

He was alone again, with the Lord of Hell.

Alone and at his mercy. Which was in short supply. His hand officially forced. Just like old times.

"I need to speak to someone first, s..son," he stammered, reaching down and trying very hard to seem natural as he stroked the demon lord's silky black head.

"Okay, daddy," Fibrizo trilled impassively, and let go of Rezo's sleeve. "Hurry back, daddy."

Various people observing them, unwitting of the danger they were in, were clueless enough to coo and "aww."

Rezo wanted to scream. "You're a sick devil," he hissed under his breath, and then he stood and walked to where he had first arrived with Xelloss. "Mister Ash," he called out, wincing when his voice broke.

"Yes, Lord Rezo?" It was as if the man had known he'd return, so quick was his response.

Rezo swallowed back the tears, swallowed back the bile he tasted from being so stupid, so horrible, for willingly, consciously involving another person in his problems, once more.

"I want you to come travel with me," he gritted.

Somewhere behind him, Fibrizo laughed. And it sounded like Nothingness itself.


	8. Random Acts

**Chapter 7: Random Acts…**

They had been walking for twelve solid hours.

In sweltering Indian-summer heat.

The shoulder-guards and set of vibrant red robes that the man called Ash had insisted upon washing for Rezo were already coated in sweat and dust.

At least, none of Rezo's own blood anymore. Ash had also sewn up all the holes where Shabranigdo's many cruel limbs had sprouted from Rezo and….well…no need to ruminate on that. Rezo already dreamt about that shattering, crushing, raping experience every time he rested his eyes. No need to dwell on it voluntarily.

Ash proved a charitable, if peculiar, escort. There was always a bounce in his step, he was impeccably polite, and most of his conversations—or rather, his meandering monologues—centered on the gently nostalgic topic of the destroyed holy tree of Sairaag, Flagoon. That a young beastman who called himself "Pokota" had planted a new Flagoon seed, which did his heart gladness.

Of course, Ash appeared also to be entirely ignorant that Rezo had met Pokota before, and furthermore, that Rezo's "son" was the most powerful and sadistic demon lord under Shabranigdo himself. Such knowledge would probably have dampened his mood. Or at least, Rezo assumed so. It was hard to tell, though, whether anything could depress Ash. The man never stopped whistling, singing uninhibited and off-key odes to soil, sunlight, and flora in general, and laughing.

The Red Priest found his new vassal's _joie de vivre_ more than a little contagious. To his shock, by the thirteenth hour of trudging aimlessly along a country road out of New Sairaag, he felt his cracked lips stretching into a content smile. He reckoned it easy to grasp why Xelloss, a demon who thrived on negative human energies, had chosen to exit when Ash joined the caravan.

Even Fibrizo seemed unusually fatigued by this relentless typhoon-wave of serotonin. His diminutive human-form's scrawny legs dragged peevishly behind the two human adults.

Rezo discovered his courage a few minutes later, and spoke up. "If you don't mind my asking, Fibrizo—pardon the interruption to your song on morning glories for just one moment, Ash—what _is_ our aim? I mean. Where are we headed?"

The pause that followed felt almost…fearful. The fumbling of an alpha wolf losing his authority over his pack. And then Fibrizo snipped, "If I knew, don't you think I'd be giving you explicit instructions, you stupid human? I'm just looking for my jar, and for father."

'Well." Rezo whet his chapped lips, tasting blood, and chose his words carefully. "I suppose you know what you're doing, Fibrizo." Though, once again, he sensed desperation in the demon lord's words and actions. "But you see, I'm much older than I look, and I fear I'll be of no use to you if I collapse from exhaustion. I just wanted to gauge the remaining distance to our destination, so that I could cast myself the appropriate healing spell."

"_Sir Rezo_!" Ash bawled. "You are afflicted with fatigue_?! I shall carry thee_!"

_Thee?_

Rezo's cheeks flushed, and he sputtered at the dreadful indignity of being a grown man carried by another grown man. "Er, that's _quite_ alright," he stammered, with an awkward laugh. "I can walk!"

"Are you sure, dear Red Priest, dear master of maladies, dear—"

_Master of WHAT?_

"Quite sure, Ash." Rezo's cheeks turned a scarlet befitting his infamous title. "I'm just a little under the weather, is all…"

"What? You're sick or something?" Fibrizo's voice thinned immediately with panic, cutting into the humorous interval. "No. That's not right. You have to find my jar. You used it last. You have to find my jar. You can't die or something. _I forbid it!_" He flailed an impotent little arm to underscore his seriousness. It only made him look smaller.

Rezo hesitated. He fingered the tip of his staff. "You…don't really remember your jar…do you?"

"What does _that_ matter?" The Hellmaster shrieked, stamping his foot into the road, disturbing an angry flurry of bleary beige dust. "_I just need it back_!"

"It's just that…" Rezo frowned his pensive frown, with the crinkle between his eyebrows. "I seem to recall there being _more than one_ jar that holds souls. And…well. A woman had it last. A woman who assisted me, who worked underground, too, for a marquise called Gioconda...a woman with a wooden body that I designed." Not Eris, but… "Ozer. Ozer was her name."

"Oh?" Fibrizo was still panting with a fury he seemed childishly incapable of modulating. But his voice was steadier, and his little hands unclenched from their fists. "Oh, well, 'Ozer' it is then. Where's she?"

Rezo bit his lip_. Zelgadiss is going to Vezendi with Ozer, Xelloss said. Zelgadiss. I must protect my boy. Even if it kills me. _"I haven't any idea," he lied. Hoping his mild-mannered pokerface was as convincing as it had always been in the past, to throngs of people who needed his healing, and needed him never to be weak or sick himself.

"Then why did you bring it up, you snot-headed saint? Eh?! You're ten kinds of useless, you know that?! Why did I even resurrect you, you…Mister Rodgers with a world-domination complex! EH?!"

Rezo folded his long-fingered hands in front of him and waited patiently for the tirade of insults to ebb. Then he answered the first question evenly. "Because it seems to me that after we died, and then came back to life, you and I acquired some kind of patchwork amnesia about certain things that happened in our prior lives. For some reason, we've both forgotten much about your soul-bearing jars."

"Jar. JAR. We don't know if you're right that there is more than one!"

"I suppose not." Rezo was so placid in the face of this latest crisis that his serenity could, paradoxically, peel nerves like a cheese grater through a particularly fat chunk of cheddar.

The calmness definitely had that effect on the Hellmaster. "Just …JUST! Ignore petty details about amnesia and try to remember what you did with that Ozer thing! You follow? _You belong to me now._ You're _MINE_, 'daddy.' _Don't forget it_!"

Xelloss's words rang again through Rezo's head. Xelloss's strangely pointed, urgent words. Like an underling nervously gossiping about his employer. Exactly like that. _It's all he knows, _the Lesser Beast had said of Fibrizo. _Ownership, slavery, totalistic and unquestioning obedience. Not love, not voluntary servitude, not kindness. Remember that, Red Priest. _Like a cue, like a lead, Xelloss had said these things.

Not kindness, huh?

Well, then.

If Rezo couldn't wiggle out of this situation by wits or by force, maybe exhibiting something Fibrizo had never known, had scorned as foreign and pointless, would get him somewhere. Just like Ash offering to help Rezo, instead of asking for more favors. Anyway, he was supposed to pretend Fibrizo was his son, right? How would a father watch over his child in this situation…?

His back ached, but…

"Fibrizo."

"What?" The demon lord snapped.

"Are you tired?"

"How is that question in any way relevant--?"

"So you _are_ tired." And Rezo stopped walking, slid his hand down his staff, and sunk to the ground. Rezo knelt down. "Climb on my back, Fibrizo. I'll carry you for a while."

The Hellmaster was transparently stunned. "I thought you were sick and stuff," he hedged.

"I am, but that doesn't in any way diminish your own discomfort, now does it?"

"Well…why?"

Rezo didn't answer. He wasn't sure he _had_ an answer. "Hop on."

"I'll carry you both!" Ash cried.

"No," Rezo firmly intoned. "It has to be _me_. Fibrizo, I said hop on."

And somehow, in that moment, the entire power dynamic, the entire blooming relationship, inverted. Turned on its head. Switched.

With a single, random act of senseless kindness.

For Fibrizo took a meandering route to Rezo's back, and then, almost timidly, climbed on. "Th…" He started to say something. But he fell mute.

Rezo thanked the gods that the Hellmaster was so small and light. He stood, and simply resumed walking.

Ash watched this display with an expression of indescribable admiration. Rezo, of course, didn't see this appreciative gaze. Or anything else.

An hour passed before Fibrizo said two things: "I'm hungry," and then, "…Why are you so nice?"

Rezo might have been imagining it, but he felt Fibrizo…elongating. Getting…bigger? Just the slightest bit.

_Growing?_

No. His psyche was just playing the tricks of sleep deprivation on his body. "We'll find some food," he replied, followed by, "I'm kind because that's just the way I like to do things. It just feels right. Habit."

"But why are you kind to _me_?"

"Well…has anyone _else_ ever been?"

Fibrizo, incriminatingly, did not reply. Instead, he asked another question. "I want to know about where you come from. Someone like you. You're weird. Where did you come from?"

"You mean, where was I born?" Rezo hiked Fibrizo higher on his shoulders, when the Hellmaster's juvenile body seemed to droop too low. He chuckled. "I actually don't know. I'm a foundling. I have no heritage. I only know my surname—Greywers, that is, or Graywords if you like, that's the vernacular for it—because the name was inscribed on the wooden basket I was found in, near a prestigious sorcery academy, where I was in turn raised and trained. Alongside a note giving my first name, that said dealing with a fully blind child 'with freakish powers' was too much for my parents, whoever they were, to handle." He smiled bitterly. "I try to forgive them, though. They weren't bad people…just weak. Like I am. And…almost four hundred years ago…well. I'm sure they're long since dead, ordinary people like that who lacked any magical background."

Fibrizo made a thoughtful sound. "And here I thought someone famous like you had a grand upbringing."

Rezo chuckled again. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Then you never knew parents? You don't know what they're like?"

"Don't _you_? I thought you called Shabranigdo 'father,' after all." Saying things of such a forward nature, Rezo was faintly aware that he was being remarkably ballsy. But he was also confident that his disarming aura of genteel calm lent him permission to behave so…impetuously. Zelgadiss had often said as much.

Regardless, again Fibrizo didn't answer.

Rezo sighed. "So…no. I don't know what parents are like. But I do know what being a parent is like. At least, sort of. I raised a kinsman from infancy. I… miss him. We didn't part ways…on civil terms."

"That chimera punk with the Seyruun justice-girlfriend, yeah?"

"Yes. Him."

"Your red button." A more familiar sneer crept into Fibrizo's tone. His arms around Rezo's neck tightened like a noose.

"…I suppose he might be. Because I love him."

Fibrizo's fingers constricted. "Don't say that word. Not the l word. Demons don't like that word. It's gross."

"Apologies."

"Forget it. You get off the hook for being stupid. Because you're carrying me."

At that moment, as if on cue, Rezo's old legs simply collapsed. He fell, on his face, into what felt like soft, shaded grasses. He contemplated just staying there. Lying down felt so damned good.

Fibrizo squeaked in alarm, and scrambled off him. "I didn't do it!" he yowled, like a cat with a singed tail.

"Sir Rezo!" Ash was at the Red Priest's side in an instant, hauling him onto his back. "Poor Sir Rezo, you're fading away. You need rest." The chipper vassal gazed upward. "The sun is setting, and we're under a lovely apple tree, and it's ripe, so that'll cover your son's hunger. Foshizzle, is that his name?"

Rezo crowed an astounded laugh, still sprawled in the grass. "Close enough," he snorted.

"_Hey_," Fibrizo hissed.

"And anyway," Ash continued, "there's a barn up ahead, where we can take shelter for the night…"

And then something very sharp and inky sailed over Ash's head, with a sickening high _"vwheee"_ sound.

And then something else, pursuing it. "PARDON ME!" A new voice, but not unfamiliar, both congenial and harried in one gasp. Out of nowhere, with a crackle-rip of expanding air, Xelloss propelled into Ash. He knocked Rezo's vassal flat on his back, pounced on him like a panther.

Rezo felt the pressure, the vibration, of a body landing forcibly beside him. His laughter abruptly halted.

Fibrizo, who ended up decidedly _beneath_ the dogpile of Ash and Xelloss, was enraged. "_Xelloss,_ of all the--!"

"_SHH_," Xelloss snapped—at a superior. Holding a single finger to his lips. Smiling, not his habitual smile, but a far more sinister smirk, eyes wide open and a little crazed. Had he a tail to match his predatory crouch, it would be lashing like a whip.

He tensed and sprang into the shadow of the nearby barn, in a perfect upward arc, swinging his staff like the most lethal of lances. He was like feral poetry.

And so was his combatant: a man with a shock of dark hair, in black from head to toe, with two oddly-bandaged arms. He sprang back from Xelloss's dazzlingly speedy charge, missing the orb of black light that Xelloss's staff aimed at his skull by a fraction of a hair.

Xelloss straightened and tossed his hair, perched on the second floor of the open-doored barn. He hooted a noise that sounded more appreciative than exasperated. "You really are amazing at your work, Mister Zuuma!"

_Zuuma! Zuuma the assassin?_ Rezo's blood froze. He sat up slowly, wracking his brains for his own defensive spells.

"I have said this too many times already," came a voice like dragging something heavy and metallic through shattered glass shards. Zuuma's voice. "I have no business with the servants of the Greater Beast, nor the Hellmaster."

"Then don't come after my employers, and we'll call it a day," Xelloss shot back pleasantly. "And remember, I have my eye on you, and my suspicions, if my informants are being honest, Mister Z. We may just meet again very soon over the matter of a certain crockery set."

"Until another invigorating encounter, then," the assassin growled, fading into the shadows on an evanescent black smoke cloud.

A pause.

Then, "Sorry about that!" Xelloss chirped, vaulting down off the second story. "He kind of got ahead of me for a sec!" He scratched the back of his head boyishly, transforming from homicidal beast into tea party companion in the blink of an eye.

"Oh, you think?" Fibrizo's sarcasm was acidic. 'Whatever. We're sleeping in that barn. Feel free to join us."

"I was hoping you'd say that! I do relish the smell of straw and compost!" Xelloss trotted in at the vanguard of the traveling party, as if nothing dangerous had just come to pass.

_What, now?_

With Ash's help, Rezo stood and followed. He felt a headache coming on with a vengeance.


	9. Past and Present Self

**Chapter 8**: **Past and Present Self**

_Author's Note: _

_First of all, from here on out, be advised: __**MASSIVE SLAYERS EVOLUTION-R SPOILERS ABOUND**__. You've been warned!_

_Secondly. In order to closely accommodate __**canon**__, I have made total overhauls in the plot direction of _Sight Through Spirit_. These changes are necessarily complicated and heftily theoretical, in keeping with the tenor of the Evolution-R manga. Therefore, __**IF YOU ARE STILL CONFUSED AFTER READING THIS CHAPTER, PLEASE READ MY POST-SCRIPT**__. It explains everything. You absolutely cannot understand the rest of this fanfiction unless this chapter makes sense._

_Thanks! And enjoy! _

_*******************************************_

_"People don't fall into categories of good and evil so easily, you know? Zel, you were with Rezo once because you used to believe in him, didn't you? The good urge to help people in need, and the evil urge holding the demon king's seal: Maybe these were both part of the real Rezo."" ~Lina Inverse, Slayers Evolution-R Anime, Episode 5._

An hour passed after Zuuma's jolting attack. With very little conversation.

Rezo sat on a milking stool by an abandoned cattle stall. He stretched carefully, grimacing at various popping joints which felt older, closer to his 340-odd years of life, than they had in the past.

Xelloss curled up like a kitten on the topmost bale of hay under direct light of the smelly, itchy barn. He sunned in an equally feline fashion, rolling coquettishly onto his back and curling his hands behind his head, eyes closed. Ash joined him, humming another tune that utterly defied melody. The demon servant appeared only mildly disturbed at this display of cheer, and even gave a soft chuckle at the novelty.

While humming, the vassal kept his eyes trained on Fibrizo, who migrated to the darkest regions of the decrepit wooden structure, but seemed unable to hold still: wandering back and forth between his nondescript location and the place where Rezo sat. An increasingly fretful gaze tightened the childlike mazoku lord's face. His little hands clenched into fists, the golden bracelets with menacingly soul-marble-reminiscent baubles jingling at his sides. He looked…helpless.

"So!" Ash boomed into the awkward silence of strange bedfellows in a barn. "Hellmaster Fibrizo, it's nice to meet you!"

This only effected a more protracted, ten times as awkward silence.

Rezo coughed and muttered something like, "Oh dear."

"How did you know?" Fibrizo seethed. He glared at Ash savagely through his disheveled, inky-blue-black hair.

"Oh, good show faking him out, Lord Hellmaster!" Xelloss trilled, still sprawled on his back, with a round of applause.

Was that sarcasm?

Fibrizo turned his wrathful pout on the Lesser Beast as though he thought as much. "_Quiet_, you," he snarled.

Despair splayed across Rezo's face. "Oh, Ash. Now you're in danger too."

"It wasn't that hard to figure out, Sir Rezo," the Sairaag construction worker chortled. "You're Mister Fibrizo's hostage. But you've been treating him in a manner he hadn't anticipated. And that's made things a little…complex. Am I right?"

"SILENCE!" Fibrizo roared—while seeming, paradoxically, to shrink in size. "SILENCE SILENCE SILENCE! _I KNOW what I am DOING_! You are _all mine_, to do my bidding! The topic is CLOSED!"

Xelloss, on his haybale mountain, idly observing the red orb on the tip of his wooden staff, just smiled.

"You try so hard to be like Shabranigdo," Rezo murmured. "What's the use, Fibrizo?" He lifted his head. "You're someone else. Everyone is someone else. I should have known how damaging it would be to manufacture clones of myself, should have thought of that then….because it's true. Be you. Not your master."

"_Don't_ try to psychoanalyze me," the diminutive demon lord growled. He leered in Rezo's face. "Don't mumble disrespectful things and try to make me one of your patients. I don't need it. You can't heal me. You can only serve me. And now, so can this idiot who's hellbent on following you around." He gestured archly at Ash.

Rezo immediately felt the crushing guilt he had anticipated even when accepting Ash's request to become his vassal. He sighed heavily and dropped his aching head into his hands.

Xelloss rolled onto his belly, kicking up his legs. "In any case," he slipped into the discourse with amazing skill, "we really should be thinking about what to do next, with reference to Lord Hellmaster's Jar."

Fibrizo uttered some guttural, wordless sound of frustration, kicking over half the haybales and relegating himself to his dark corner.

Xelloss's eyebrows did a bemused dance on his forehead at this tantrum. Then, as though Fibrizo had done nothing disruptive, he pressed, "Red Priest."

"Yes?" Rezo tried to sound cordial, through his hands.

"Why don't you put some thought into your peculiar case of amnesia, and the Jar you've misplaced? Why you used it…where you got it…that sort of thing."

"I'll try." Rezo pressed his fingers to his temples. "…Hoh. So typical of me. So myopic…Fibrizo. I remember now. I took your jar because…I thought that…by transferring my soul into a different body…I would be able to use that body's eyes…to see."

"That desperate, ne?" Xelloss chirped uncharitably. Scrutinizing Rezo like a worm wriggling on a hook.

Rezo's skin took on, if possible, a greater pallor. His lips thinned to fine white lines.

Fibrizo was watching.

"Be quiet!" the Hellmaster snapped, and then, more quietly, more hesitantly, "Be quiet. Let him explain."

"It was in vain. Because I made a fundamental error in judgment. I think I knew…I knew, a part of me was very conscious by then, that my body was hosting a fragment of Shabranigdo's soul. I just didn't know it was something more inextricable than a contaminated part of my body. More irreversible than having him in my eyes. It wasn't my retinas, my corneas, my…irises, not any of that, where Shabranigdo lurked. It was…my soul. Shabranigdo's seal was imprinted in my soul. His soul and mine…had not fused, but had embraced. Had come to coexist in my one body. And so transferring my soul into another…his soul would naturally come along for the ride. Like a parasite. A filthy parasite. I could not escape and destroy him. I was his prisoner."

Xelloss hooted. "Strong words!"

"Blasphemy," Fibrizo hissed. "Father is no parasite. You are merely an exalted vessel. Never forget it."

Rezo continued speaking, without heeding Fibrizo's animosity. "I conducted my first successful experiment of this sort in Taforashia…to put the victims of the Durum Disease to sleep…and to give the prince of Taforashia and his friend Duclis surrogate bodies. And I'm sure that when I transferred a small portion of my soul into your jar, Fibrizo…your jar, which you made, evidently, to emulate your 'father' Lord Ruby-Eyes…well, a big enough piece of Shabranigdo's soul went right into that jar too. So…somewhere, an echo of your father, and an echo of a past me, dwell together inside that jar. You were looking for your father. Well. That's where I 'put' him, Fibrizo." Rezo's fine-boned nose curled into a bitter snarl. "I guess he's terribly proud of you, after all."

Fibrizo was utterly entranced. "I can find father, then? I can find father…" He looked even smaller, to Ash and Xelloss. Felt even smaller, to Rezo.

But Rezo was too busy self-flagellating to think much of it. "Yes. It seems I was reckless enough to give Shabranigdo one more way to resurrect in this world. Aren't I the good little saint?" He paused then, to clutch at his eyes, which ached as though with all the phantom agonies of the souls he had, for centuries, healed. And with his own guilt, and horror.

Fibrizo's manic trance dissolved, and he gawked at Rezo, and looked even more helpless, even more torn, than before. "…um," he said.

Even Xelloss, watching, restrained from baiting the Red Priest. He cocked his head at Rezo's twitching, cringing form, hair tumbling over his amethyst eyes. Politely, then, he looked away.

Ash approached the mage, and knelt in the hay next to him. He placed a hand on Rezo's shoulder, his thumb softly stroking, soothing.

"Sir Rezo," he breathed, like warmth, like sunlight, like a breeze through a tree's rustling branches. "You must forgive yourself." Like moss. Soft.

"That day won't come. I won't allow it. I don't get to be off the hook. Not me." Chanted like a mantra, through the Red Priest's clenched teeth. The ground pummeled once, by his clenched hands. "Not _me_." He rocked slightly.

Ash was silent for a moment. And then he said, "May I yet prove you wrong. That is my prayer. And I am going to start trying right now."

The barn vanished. They were in a cavern. A dense cavern, with a low ceiling, and with some thick floral aroma, mixed with rain and mildew. All was green and pulsing, shadowy and twisted, an organic maze.

"Well this is interesting," Xelloss commented, climbing down from what appeared to be a gnarled pile of roots.

Rezo lifted his head and faintly frowned. "Something's different…"

"Very," Xelloss agreed, with a giggle.

"Where are we?" Fibrizo demanded, an inch from hysteria.

"I suppose the best way to put this is, we're in an astral pocket. A liminal place, a place between defined times and spaces. We're in the bowels, the roots, of a phantom Flagoon…where the good will of an ancient healing tree, and the cruel, wicked will of a bastard creation of the Claire Bible—the Zanaffar—coexist. A crossroads…where you will all face what you have been avoiding. What traps you." Ash smiled dopily. "On the bright side, you might find your way out of here if you hunker down at my feet."

That was when Xelloss understood. "I'll be damned," he chuckled. "And usually, I'm so good at seeing through people. And here I thought you were just some harmless health-craze hippie, Mister Ash."

"What do you mean, Xelloss?" Fibrizo demanded, in that singsong tone that signaled the onslaught of his childlike panic.

"Ash," Rezo smilingly spoke, after a long silence, "is, after all, the name of a tree." He pointed his staff at the named in question, who smiled still more broadly in return. "A tree that does me a great, undeserved honor, with his attentions, and his nurturing, considering what my copy tried to do to him and to his city, not so long ago."

Fibrizo's vengeful jade eyes snapped back and forth between the faces of the adults. "Wait. Then…he's…but that's not possible…!"

"It _is_ possible, Fibrizo," Rezo calmly intoned. "Sooner or later we're all going to learn that _anything _is possible. Lord Hellmaster, meet the spirit of Flagoon. The soul that did not die when his body shattered. The soul that returned when beckoned. Am I correct?"

"We're kindred spirits, Sir Rezo," Ash replied, by way of confirmation.

Rezo's smile was tight, sad. "At least your soul is in one piece. After all…there is an echo, a shard, of my soul inside the Hellmaster's Jar, a torn-out page of a diary, of me. A page that preserves a remnant of my soul when it coexisted with Shabranigdo's." He shook his head, bowing it, as in prayer. "A piece of my soul is tainted forever. The rest of me lingers in this old body forever waiting to be made whole. Forever lonely and blind because I cannot be whole. Because I severed my own soul into pieces, with my own hands, just like Shabranigdo himself did…!" He took a deep, ragged breath. "And I fear the consequences of having a soul that is like a book with a corrupted page ripped out of it. That page, that echo, of me at my worst…with an echo of Ruby-Eyes in it as well…gods, what atrocities it could do. What if another corrupt human got his hands on that jar? And found out that a phantom echo of Shabranigdo lingers in it? And could do all sorts of heinous things, if that reservoir were correctly tapped—"

"He already has," Xelloss interjected, with a well-feigned nonchalance. "Because having a ma-oh's capabilities at your beckon call makes regrowing your arms easier. Heh."

Rezo's throat closed, and then his tongue seemed incapable of forming comprehensible language. Finally, he mustered a "_what_?"

"We met him briefly outside the door to the barn. His name is Zuuma. The guy in all black, ne?"

"How?!" Rezo panted, and then, catching his evasive breath, he answered himself: "Ozer."

"In all honesty, I'm not sure yet," Xelloss purred. "All I know is he attacked you lot earlier thinking Lord Hellmaster might have the jar by his name—or possibly one of the many false jars, the decoys, which Rezo here correctly remembers existing."

"So you were following us all along," Fibrizo peevishly interrupted. "Rezo and I were having that conversation way before you showed yourself, you cunning little devil!"

Xelloss continued impassively explaining. "But then Zuuma got his hands on the real jar, somehow, in Vezendi—whether by Ozer, or her current employer, one Radok, I'm not certain. He has a couple of flunkies…their names escape me but I'm informed that they're lesser demons…making it difficult for Lina Inverse and her little gang—including Rezo's great-grandson—to get their hands on Zuuma himself, or the real jar. Allllll in Vezendi. Heh. I may have to interfere soon, if only for the entertainment value…"

He tossed his hair with an airy sort of vanity, and continued:

"Because, really, a mere human using a piece of Lord Ruby Eyes in a jar to manipulate the entire mazoku race _ad nauseum, _ahaha_, _just to off people like Miss Lina in a fancypants evil way, is a bit bothersome for we demons." He snorted, and then giggled, rolling his eyes.

But at the moment, Rezo didn't care about the technicalities related to what Zuuma was trying to do with the Hellmaster's Jar.

Rezo cared only that the person he had always loved most was swiftly advancing toward the most dangerous location on Red Orb, and all because of a stupid, ambitious thing he'd done with his own soul back when Shabranigdo had possessed him.

Even if to save Taforashia…even if people had been dropping dead left and right, clinging to his red robes like salvation, writhing, with weeping canker sores and drooling vomiting mouths and ravaged mad brains, with the Durum Disease…it had still been too risky a process, condemned by the Sorcerer's Guild. Sometimes people were just supposed to die. Sometimes you couldn't save everyone. And yet Rezo, in a quixotic mania, had done it anyway. Thinking he really could save the world. Blind in ways that had little to do with his eyes, blind with kindness and arrogance and compassion and stubbornness. Always working, always serving, to feel he existed. And neglecting those closest to him in the process. Neglecting their safety.

And now, oh, how he hated himself. How angry he was, how angry he was with himself, for being _such a god-damned martyr_.

"Vezendi," he gasped. "Vezendi. That's where you said a copy of me was going to meet with Zelgadiss…" The sound of his frantic voice, echoing off the soft green mosses that were the ghosts of Flagoon's insides, indicated that while he'd stood their agonizing over his past, no one else had moved or spoken much. So he could still command a crowd, like a preacher with his congregation. How bloody ironic.

"Tut, now, I may have used poor word choice." Xelloss smirked, and the indentation of his lips, and his dimples, into his beautiful face, settled down like the pattern of an aquatint on a metal plate, the acid biting. "I guess I _did_ say 'copy,' but what I _meant_ was 'piece,' or 'part,' if you will. Not another clone of you, no. You, but not the You that stands here now. Not the JUST-You you, which was centrifuged out when you died helping Lina kill Shabranigdo. Ozer is going to introduce Zelgadiss to that Echo of You. An Echo of You in the past with Lord Ruby-Eyes etched into your soul. The You that existed _before_ you died, and broke free of Lord Ruby-Eyes. A snapshot of You Before. You suspended in Time. In Past. That is whom Zelgadiss will meet, very soon. Zelgadiss, and very possibly Lina Inverse."

"Then" Rezo pledged, face twisted in a rare icy fury, "I will have to get to Zelgadiss _before_ he meets that piece of my soul. I _must_! _I will get to my boy first!"_

"That is none of my affair," Xelloss shrugged. "I am here only to observe, and to intercede on behalf of the monster race when things get out of hand with Mister Zuuma."

Rezo fell mute for another long moment. Then he mumbled, "You are my superior, Flagoon. You've made me face the worst thing I've ever had to face, just now. Thank you..." But the thanks was hollow. He felt more hopeless than ever.

The boxy, gentle man held up a hand…because he knew. "Please. It's Ash. Just Ash. And I fear…your test is not so simple. Nor is knowing that there is a piece of your soul in a jar and sewn into the fabric of Shabranigdo's soul the nature of your test. No. Your test is both simpler and more complicated. Your test has to do with Zelgadiss."

"The rocky-face," Fibrizo jeered. "We don't have time for _him_."

"You'd be surprised what you can make time for, when it really matters," Ash retorted. "All three of you will face a test before we can escape. Before we can stop those seeking the Hellmaster's Jar. Before we can stop this madman called Zuuma. Now. Face what you must, that you may grow."

He stepped back, behind the other three, seeming to meld with the walls of his own ghost-insides, at the same time seeming to magnify.

Fibrizo squeaked. Xelloss's eyes opened. And Rezo straightened, holding on to his staff.

In front of them loomed the ghost of the Zanaffar that had ravaged Sairaag. And in its gruesome, iridescent shadow, were three beings: Lei Magnus-Shabranigdo, Filia Ul Copt, and Zelgadiss Greywers.

******************************************

_**POST-SCRIPT.**_

_Yes, I love cliffhangers. Lol. But now, to the explanation regarding Rezo and Evolution-R canon._

_Okay. Essentially, I am dealing with the existence of TWO Rezo's SPLIT APART from ONE __SOUL__. __This is NOT the same as Original Rezo and Kopii Rezo__. __Rather, it's Past-Rezo and Present-Rezo__. Let me explain: _

_**Rezo #1**__ is trapped in the Hellmaster's Jar. This being is an itty-bitty single piece of Rezo's soul that he extracted from himself to put Taforashia to sleep and put Pokota and Duclis in beast bodies. __But guess what, Rezo did this act of mercy while still fused with Shabranigdo. __Thus! __This being represents Rezo BEFORE he died and was liberated from Shabranigdo:__ the Rezo who turned Zelgadiss into a chimera, the Rezo who made and tortured clones, the Rezo who resurrected Shabranigdo. This Rezo appears in the Evolution-R manga. He's an __anachronism__, an __antique,__a snapshot __of a Rezo that existed in the __past__ and was evil, but can't take bodily form in the __present__. He's a __MEMORY__ of a __Rezo that no longer exists but is, alas, stuck in a jar__, and has dangerous potential.__ Rezo #1 is an extremely literal example of being "__**stuck in the past**__."_

_**Rezo #2**__ is the Rezo starring in my fanfiction. He is my invention. This being exists at the same time as Rezo #1 exists. But Rezo #2 represents the parts of Rezo's soul, the __majority__ of his soul, __NOT trapped in the Hellmaster's Jar. These are the parts of Rezo's soul which were freed from Shabranigdo when Rezo died. __PURE REZO. ONLY REZO, freed from Shabranigdo. This Rezo still possesses most of the memories that he had when Shabranigdo controlled him (because at that time, the soul-parts he represents were there too) EXCEPT for the memories associated with Taforashia: because those memories belong to that one cut-off soul-piece that makes Jar/Past Rezo. Rezo #2 is the master of his own actions, is basically a kind person, and his eyes, though still blind, can open. Rezo #2 is __**the UP-TO-DATE Rezo**__. _

_My aim is to have __both__ of these Rezo's running around in this story, with obviously conflicting interests that will become the center-point of the story's plot. _

_Amazingly enough, for the most part my ideas are uncannily compatible with the events recently revealed in chapters 2 and 3 of the Slayers Evolution-R __manga__. The remainder of this fanfiction must be seen as "behind-the-scenes" events to what is going on in the Evolution-R plot. Yet also, as chapters progress, Present-Rezo and company's activities will collude with those of Jar/Past-Rezo and the main cast. __Be patient.__I'm __**not**__ writing AU here. It will all come together__. _

_My themes are about __**growth, change, and forgiveness**__. If you're stuck in the past, in a moment in time that haunts you (like Zelgadiss, Jar/Past-Rezo, and Fibrizo are) and you can't move forward, you can never grow. And what would you do when confronted with a remnant of yourself in the past, the You that would do something regrettable? What would you say to exorcize that past you permanently, and realize that you are you are now a different, autonomous, brand new self? Would you feel forlorn or hopeful? That's the aim of this story, to prove this. For Rezo, Fibrizo, and Zelgadiss. Keep it in mind._

_Finally, I keep Xelloss close at hand because he is the device through which I keep the audience connected to the canonical events of Evolution-R, until Rezo and company's story converges with that of the main cast. So__! Pay very close attention to our slippery friend Xelloss, if you are still confused._

_Thanks for reading! Next chapter coming soon!_


	10. What Binds You?

**Chapter 9: What Binds You?**

_(Author's note: The pink teddy bear DOES exist in CANON—and it's found in Rezo's secret laboratory under Old Sairaag! See Slayers Season One Anime, the episode titled: "The One Who Was Left Behind!" I am not making this up, lol! Enjoy the chapter.)_

_"I descended a dusty gravel ridge  
Beneath the Bixby Canyon Bridge  
Until I eventually arrived  
At the place where your soul had died._

_Barefoot in the shallow creek,  
I grabbed some stones from underneath  
And waited for you to speak to me._

_And the silence; it became so very clear  
That you had long ago disappeared.  
I cursed myself for being surprised  
That this didn't play like it did in my mind._

_All the way from San Francisco  
As I chased the end of your road  
Cause I've still got miles to go._

_And I want to know my fate  
If I keep up this way._

_And it's hard to want to stay awake  
When everyone you need, they all seem to be asleep.  
And you wonder if you missed your dream._

_You can't see a dream  
You can't see a dream.  
You just can't see a dream._

_And then it started getting dark.  
I truged back to where the car was parked  
No closer to any kind of truth  
As I assume was the case with you."_

~_Death Cab For Cutie_

_*******************************************_

The great shimmering, gelatinous silver beast hovering above their heads, drooling through a distended gummy mouth of fangs, growling menace, was hardly the most disturbing element that stood in their path out of the phantom Flagoon.

Rather, it was the three people at the foot of the Zanaffar.

The Wise Man of the Age who, unlike Rezo, had never glanced back and doubted being a container of Shabranigdo. His eyes open, bloody red, the complement to the green in Fibrizo's. The lord of hell dropped to his scrawny pale knees and crawled over to the red vision like a pathetic dog, bleating, "Father..!"

Filia Ul Copt, the young golden dragoness, the only person on Red Orb who could stir the cold cunning and lethal Xelloss Metallium to some modicum of feeling aside detached curiosity, or hedonistic pleasure, or cordial hatred. The only person who wiped the smirk off his face, the only person who could slap him across the cheek and live to tell about it. The only person who made him take another look at the stars, at people laughing, at babies, at rainbows in oil spills, at a sprouting sapling's fragile new life. The only person he kissed for the sake of kissing, and no ulterior motive. His equal opposite and soul mate with cascades of dandelion-yellow hair. A feisty spirit with a penchant for chaos… a member of the same race whose ancestors he'd….

Zegladiss Greywers. Hurting and defiant and barely twenty. Hands on hips, which jutted rebelliously to the side. Zelgadiss, with cantankerous, messy hair that looked so like his great-grandfather's sans the use of a comb. Only those enormous thick-lashed pewter blue eyes were still soft. The rest of him ravaged, a memory of a fierce, clever, strong-willed human boy petrified in stone and cankered with sharp black shards of rock. The boy of bedtime stories, guitars and oatmeal for breakfast, of hide and go seek games among the twisting, bubbling tubes of Rezo's laboratory, the boy of "gramps," and "teach me this," and "show me that," and "what's this thing do?" and an unending thirst to grow and know and improve. Rezo's boy. His boy…ruined by _him._

Rezo saw none of this but he _felt_ it. He felt the hostility exuding from his kinsman. He knew Zelgadiss stood before him and wanted to tear him asunder. "Go ahead," he moaned. "Go ahead and do what you want with me. Nobody will blame you in the least."

But the specter of his great-grandson remained still. And Rezo lost the courage to say anything more.

"Go on," Ash urged them all. "What binds you? Face it."

Xelloss was the first to break ground. Xelloss, in whose nature it was do simply do what needed to be done. He took one step toward Filia. "What are you doing here, Filly?" he breathed. He executed vocal nonchalance beautifully. But his smile was unsteady. It trembled.

"You killed them," the golden dragoness droned. A dead, resigned tone. Nothing like her excitable soprano. "You killed my people, a millennium ago…"

"…S…_So_?" Xelloss pried it out through tightly smiling lips, an attempt to be cavalier and unfeeling, and yet it sounded insincere. "What's your _point_, then?"

He conjured a teacup—a plain white teacup with a Greek meander trim. He tried to sip from it—an absurdly casual gesture. His hand was as shaky as his smile.

Then it happened: Xelloss's staff vanished from his right hand. He yelped and the teacup fell from his other hand and shattered.

Rezo jolted at the breaking sound. "What was that? _Anybody_?"

"_Father_…!" Fibrizo kept wailing. Clinging at Lei Magnus's robe hem. Kissing it, all but drooling on it. Dryly sobbing. "_Father, father_! _Lord Ruby Eyes! Father_!"

And Xelloss turned, and watched with jaw ajar as his staff impaled Filia straight through her gut.

Her cornflower blue eyes, hooded, glazed and reticent, never moved from Xelloss's face. "You killed them…and one day the Greater Beast will have an order for you."

"Oho, nah, no no," he giggled, a forced giggle. "No, tch, haha, my mother doesn't make me do unnecessary thin—"

"_And you'll kill me too,"_ the ghost of Filia concluded, as a river of thick dark redness spilled repulsively out of her mouth, and nose, and eyes. "You'll kill me too, Xelloss," she gurgled. "And you'll kill Val. And you'll kill _everyone_ that got in the way of the purity of your mission to serve the monster race…"

The phantom Zanaffar gave a screeching roar of delight at this verdict.

"Please, ahaha, please stop _talking_," Xelloss laughed, frantically. He waved his arms, and snapped his fingers impatiently, crisply, like a dog trainer with a little terrier pooping on a rug. "Really this is all so _absurd_…this is _all silly_, it's not _real_ anyhow…_You're_ not Filia." He tossed his hair, and compulsively, brushed some loose strands of it behind an ear, over and over. "Filia's back at her quaint little cottage making pottery! Snug as a bug!" Over and over and over. "Ha, yes. I'm _not_ giving into this emotional _sillyne_—"

The specter of Filia vomited up more blood. In squirts, in streams, in rivers. Red kept coming and coming.

It was amazing how much came out of her slender, feminine body.

"_Kill_," she gurgled. "_You_."

Xelloss lunged for her. "Filia, _stop_. Stop talking, it's _hurting_ you. Ahaha, silly dragon, stop talking, you heedless bigmouth, stop it Filia, stop talking _ahahaha_ oh my _GOD hahaha_ you're so _messy_ stop talking I said _you brainless…stop talking, stop lying about me, I won't…not ever…god damn it, Filia, don't_…!"

His voice, though it never rose, trembled so much that the words were almost inscrutable. He held her head smiling and laughing helplessly, tittering in grief, while she continued to purge herself of life, all over the front of his robes, red everywhere.

And mixed with the red, weeping from her eyes, were little brutalized chunks of morning glories. Morning glories everywhere, all around the group of wanderers, dying morning glories, the residue of a private joke between Xelloss and Filia. Then a child's toy drizzled out, a wooden stick with two marbles to clack together, with the name "VAL" written in big capitals onto the side….

What they could not see, what Xelloss alone could see, were piles of stinking shredded up golden dragon carcasses. The exact scene of his infamous act of genocide, during the Koma War, a thousand years past.

Xelloss sat there, catatonic, holding the leaking-out life of his forbidden idol, caught in a limbo between being the monster race's purple-haired aberration, who was capable of feeling love, and that same race's glorified war hero, the Lesser Beast, the general who had killed a flock of ryuuzoku in the twitch of a finger, void of remorse. His smile was a horrible mangled thing, and no sound came from him.

Rezo didn't understand everything that the demon saw. Even if his eyes had worked, he wouldn't have been able to witness all of it. But he tried to speak. "Xe…Xelloss…I don't…think that it's real…"

Xelloss shook more and more violently, with silent, hysterical laughter. He shrugged, and shook some more, paralyzed. "Not _yet_," he finally sighed. "Not _some_ of it." He looked around at all the dragon carcasses and sighed again. "…I think maybe I feel bad about some of this, after all. Huh. That's…curious. Do you suppose I've developed a conscience, Red Priest? Ahaha. Holy man, can you save my soul? How about your own?"

Rezo had no parry for that blow. "I…really don't know."

Ash's face carried the deepest registers of sadness as he watched their struggles unfolding. "Keep trying," he murmured, eyes urgent.

But the ghost of Lei Magnus-Shabranigdo was caressing Fibrizo, holding him up around his neck—a noose and a hug at the same time. Turning into a dark formless miasma. Crooning to Fibrizo that he needn't exist on his own, that he existed only to serve the dark lord, that he needn't fear the burden of choice or selfhood. Fibrizo was choking and crying with joy. Shrinking in size. To Nothingness. With bliss. "_Father, Father, Father_…!" he gagged, reaching up greedily for Magnus-Shabranigdo's face, to be further entwined, consumed, assimilated to the smoldering blackness. To cease existing, but with fear in his eyes at the same time as there was euphoria.

Rezo heard enough to understand, torn between Xelloss's and Fibrizo's dilemmas and his own confrontation. Goosebumps raised along his forearms and calves. He didn't know to whom he should go first. Help_, help_…yes, that was his purpose always, to help, to help, but whom should he help _first_?

"Ignoring _me_ to bleed your heart at strangers again, eh, gramps?"

God, the voice was so horrible and wonderful and foreign and familiar all at once, and Rezo forgot _everyone _else that very instant. "…Zelgadiss?" The apparition was speaking to him at last.

"You lousy megalomaniac. You dare to show your face to me again? You _died_ and I was getting _okay_. You've ripped off the scab, you _piece of filth_! _You were NEVER there for me, so why NOW_?"

The Zanaffar greedily snarled. Jeering.

Rezo's stomach dropped to his knees. _Why? Why_? Such a simple question. And his mind was a panicked blank. _A blank_!

"Why'd you come back?" Zelgadiss's specter advanced on Rezo, drawing his broadsword. "_What FOR_?"

"Be…" Rezo stuttered. He tried to think of the words. It seemed ever since the moment he'd reawakened from his slumber of death, this was the moment he'd prepared eloquent, tender remarks for. Now? No words came. None. "Be-because it…"

Zelgadiss mocked his great-grandfather pitilessly. " 'B-b-because it, it, it,' " he simpered, then roared, "Don't make me puke, you _hypocrite_!"

"But no, wait, please a moment, please I—"

"_I hate you_."

Oh, that hurt. Those three words. It was stunning, dazzling, how much those three words hurt coming from that specific person. "I…know. I _know_ you do…and I deserve that, but…"

"_I thought you died_!"

"I _did_ but—"

"FINE! THEN WHY DIDN'T YOU _STAY DEAD_?"

"_For YOU_!" Rezo finally screamed, palms raised over his head—breaking free of the mire of mutual despising and miscommunication.

The whole chamber rang and echoed with his maimed voice.

"_For YOU!_ _I came back for YOU! Because YOU CALLED MY NAME! YOU! Because I LOVE you! Zelgadiss, I show it pathetically, but I still do LOVE you…!" _

The phantom of Zelgadiss balked.

"…More than my own life," Rezo added, in a tired rasp. "More…than anything or anyone else. And that's why…this…" He gestured at the ghost of his great-grandson, at the maze of terror around them "…is so hard."

At this, all other ghosts disappeared—Filia, her blood, the dragon bodies, Lei Magnus—but not the Zanaffar. It grumbled and growled, shifting weight and seeming to restlessly expand.

Ash's face looked like dawn after an endless night. "_Yes_…" he whispered. "_Good_, Sir Rezo. Keep going…"

Xelloss blinked, and frowned, his expression immediately retracting from the despairing to the mildly puzzled. "Whoa," was his profound assessment of the past half hour of agony, and then the even more astute post-script, "Hum!"

Fibrizo was curled into a fetal ball at the foot of the Zanaffar, where Lei Magnus's specter had been. "_He left me_," he whimpered.

Fibrizo needed help.

Rezo hesitated before Zelgadiss.

Then, with an expression of quiet anguish, he tore himself away, and went to Fibrizo. He braced the tiny demon lord, brushing some of his sweat-soaked black hair from his dazed eyes. "Sit up…it's alright," he crooned. "I'm…here." He had no idea what possessed him to say it. Maybe the need to be needed…the desperation to find a surrogate for the kinsman who towered over him hating him so fiercely. "I'm here."

Fibrizo looked up into Rezo's exhausted, sweaty, worry-creased …and yet…warm…serene…accepting face. He was astounded…and completely vulnerable. "…You're…here?"

"Yes," Rezo replied. "It's…alright now."

That was when something soft materialized by Rezo's right foot. He jolted, startled. "What…?" He picked it up and turned it over in his hands.

It was a big, lumpy teddy bear, with black button eyes.

Rezo's breath went ragged. He was smiling…so lovingly. His eyes felt heavy and moist. "Oh...look. Look at this."

Ash nodded.

Fibrizo blinked.

Xelloss crawled over. He cocked an eyebrow. "Er. It's a stuffed animal, Mister Greywers."

"Is it pink?" Rezo begged. "Tell me!"

"…Yes," Xelloss nodded. "Disgustingly pink. Powdery…pink. _Ugh_."

"No, you don't…! You don't understand." Rezo cradled the bear now, cradled it like a baby. Nuzzled it, like it was the most precious thing in the world. Then he gave an embarrassed laugh into the silence.

"Ah. Then maybe you should help us understand." Xelloss used the mild, measured tone of someone well-acclimated to bosses and employers who were decidedly off their rockers. He probably had a lot of practice, if Fibrizo was any indication.

"It was for my boy," Rezo explained. "It was for Zelgadiss, when he was little. This bear. Only I never gave it to him. I left it in my lab in Old Sairaag and…how can it be _here_? Strange…It was for his birthday…oh, my goodness, _years_ ago. He was…seven, eight, I think?…and I got it on the way home from my laboratory late that night…and…"

A cleansing torrent of tears drizzled onto the pink bear's head…onto Fibrizo's face, as the lord of hell gazed, in awe, up at the painful beauty of a kind person like Rezo weeping.

"Why _didn't_ you give it to him?" Fibrizo found himself prompting.

Xelloss, who had been about to ask, glanced at the Hellmaster, head cocked. "Eh?" he mumbled, puzzled at his boss.

"Because," Rezo breathily laughed, "it's, haha, it's _pink_…! For a very _boyish _little boy! And I didn't _know_ that when I bought it, I thought it was _blue,_ because I put my hand into the toy store's bin full of blue bears and didn't realize it was there by mistake…because, well you know…" He gestured at his eyes. "Oh. But if only I had _just_…regardless, it would have been okay, he wouldn't have really cared, if I had just…"

"_HA_!" came a sharp battle cry. And the ghost of Zelgadiss lunged at Rezo, at his heart, broadsword raised to skewer.

And that was when Fibrizo, the Hellmaster, who toyed with life, got involved in a human's life, for honorable reasons.

He stood, stepped in front of Rezo, shielding him completely, and pinched two fingers. A golden marble extracted from the heart-center of the charging chimera and perched between the Hellmaster's poised fingers. Fibrizo squeezed.

Zelgadiss immediately collapsed.

"You _don't_ hurt Rezo, _Rockface_!" Fibrizo snarled. "_GOT that_?!"

Xelloss's eyebrows completely disappeared in his bangs. "Um," he said, uncharacteristically inarticulate once again. "_Whoa_."

Ash stepped forward and slipped his arms under Rezo's, hoisting him to his feet. "Everything is going to get better now," he said. "With a few bumps. But you're doing it."

Rezo wasn't listening. He shook free of Ash. "_You_, Fibrizo!" he snapped. "What did you just do to Zelgadiss?"

"I'm teaching him what happens when someone is mean to you," Fibrizo sneered, fingers closing in on the golden marble.

It was as if he were exhibiting a bizarre, sadistic sort of newborn loyalty to the Red Priest. The only way that he, a mazoku lord, knew how.

Rezo was not impressed. "STOP that." He ripped the tiny orb from the Hellmaster's fingers. "_Nobody_ hurts my boy." He let the bauble go then, and it floated away, unharmed. "Don't you _touch _him."

Xelloss cringed, bracing for impact. For a tantrum. For a minor nuclear holocaust, even.

But Fibrizo was utterly abashed. He teetered back from Rezo and the fallen ghost of Zelgadiss, chided and shy. Crestfallen. "B-but…he's not even _real_…"

"You didn't seem to feel that way about your 'father' just now," was Rezo's savage retort. "You just _back off_, Fibrizo. _Back off_."

Silence. Fibrizo kicked at the dusty ground and laced his arms over his chest.

And Rezo was immediately ashamed of his harshness. "Oh…look…I appreciate what you were doing, for me…but…he's been through enough…my 'red button,' as you call him." He spread his arms, red velvet robes billowing at his sides. "His anger and bitterness, even his betrayal, are _my_ fault. I can't in good conscience punish him for those things."

Fibrizo just shrugged, and turned away. "Whatever," the lord of hell churlishly mumbled.

"I hate to interrupt," Ash piped up. "But you're _both_ wrong. When you felt regret for your past, Xelloss, and when you let go of your eyes and put Zelgadiss first, Rezo…and Fibrizo, when you showed care…for someone aside yourself and Shabranigdo…well. You, er, summoned Master Zelgadiss here. To, um, hasten the procedure of …moving on and growing…"

Fibrizo's proverbial tail came out from between his legs. "_What_? Oh, COME on! That's ludicrous!"

Xelloss poked the collapsed body of Zelgadiss with his foot. "For _reals_?" he interjected, like an emotionally labile preteen watching a reality show. With an irreverent and wholly sarcastic shrillness that would make the most grounded of people want to smack his grin off his face.

Fibrizo took a swipe. Xelloss yipped and ducked.

Rezo stooped over the fallen body of Zelgadiss.

The chimera lay on his back, now, still unconscious, but clutching the pink teddy bear of a should-have-been past. The Red Priest placed his hand over his kinsman's mouth. This was no phantom conjured from a tortured psyche anymore. Zelgadiss was breathing—and his breath rather reeked of coffee…but he was alive. Indeed, "for reals."

"Oh, God," Rezo whispered.

The Zanaffar was still here—and Zelgadiss was in danger again. Because of Rezo.

"Can you all swim?" Ash chimed. "Because you might be able to escape the Silver Beast that way! He's rather top-heavy and there's a lake in this direction." He pointed down a dirt-encrusted tunnel.

"I'd be delighted to go for a dip!" Xelloss chirped. Ever so casually, he curled his fingers around Rezo's and Fibrizo's arms. And then he bolted.

The Zanaffar ghost screeched in protest. A whole chunk of its leg had been ripped asunder by the selfless acts of its four prisoners, and now its prey was escaping. It pulsated a brilliant white gold and shimmered eerily like one great glob of laser breath. And then it plunged forward, limping but speedy, in pursuit.

"WAIT!" Rezo cried. He twisted in Xelloss's grasp, reaching for where Zelgadiss lay.

"I've got him, Sir Rezo!" Ash trumpeted, with the body of Zelgadiss and his teddy bear, an absurd sight, tossed over the spirit of Flagoon's shoulder. He trotted after Xelloss, huffing and puffing.

Xelloss lunged, dodged, curved, and sprinted through the bowels of the phantom tree like a nocturnal beast, never once slowing. Shortly he came upon a gelatinous transparent wall, like the underside of a jellyfish, and through it a seemingly endless dark body of water. "Time to hold your breath!" he crowed.

"I…I _can't swim_!" Rezo croaked, a delayed and dismaying realization. World renowned for his magical power, and he couldn't even _doggy paddle_. Peachy!

A tiny cold hand covered his mouth. "Just breathe normally. Deep Sea Dolphin taught me this trick…I've got Rockface covered, too."

_Fibrizo._

"…Stuffed animals don't need to breathe, do they?" came the same juvenile voice, in an unsure squeak—evidently referring to the pink teddy.

"N-no, they don't," Rezo stammered. "Ah…don't worry."

And then all around him, wetness, coldness, crushing in, as Xelloss slid through the wall and into the lake.

Rezo took an experimental breath…with ease. Fibrizo had been sincere. He was producing oxygen for Rezo's lungs underwater. And, presumably, for Zelgadiss's lungs as well.

_Payback_? Was a demon lord capable of thanking a mere human that way? Incredible…! But all he had done was give his assurance that he hadn't left Fibrizo…hadn't handed him over to Nothingness…

Just then Fibrizo shrieked like an arachnophobic catching sight of a Tarantula. "IT'S TOUCHING ME! KILL IT, KILL IT! IT'S SLIMY, AGH, KILL IT!"

Rezo quivered too as something that felt like a centipede covered in grease brushed his ankle.

Xelloss lurched around and reset his grip more firmly on Fibrizo, a responsible retainer trying to keep his squirmy babysitt-ee from falling out of his arms. "Hold STILL, Lord Hellmaster," he tsk-ed. "It's just the Zanaffar's tentacles, and we're almost to the surface."

Well. Rezo didn't know about _Xelloss_, but the thought of a demon beast's tentacles groping someone's body disturbed _him_.

"NO, GETTIOFF GETTIOFF!" Fibrizo continued, not at all placated.

One good turn deserved another. Rezo gripped his staff tightly in his free hand and swung it with all his might, blindly, in the direction of Fibrizo's hysterical screams. He chanted a forceful Elmekia Lance. Like a potent lightning rod, his staff discharged in the water toward, he hoped, the correct target.

The spell made contact with something solid. A mangled roar beneath them signaled that the Zanaffar had at least been startled by his spell. It would only buy them a little time, though, because any Zanaffar was sealed off from the astral side's attacks.

Fibrizo stopped screaming, free. "Slimy," the Hellmaster shuddered.

"Good show, Sir Rezo!" Ash cheered, and Rezo began wondering if he could ever actually disappoint Flagoon's kindly spirit.

"Great, now you made it angrier," Xelloss hissed, in direct, pragmatic contrast. He swam upwards so fast that Rezo's ears popped from the rapidly changing water pressure.

At last they broke the surface; Fibrizo's spell cancelled out with a plorking sound, and Rezo took a liberating gasp of fresh air. "Are we back in the…the real world?" he coughed, scraping at the soaked hair plastered to his skull.

"Yes," Ash cried. "In Seyruun!"

"Where?" Fibrizo groaned. "I'm all _wet_…"

"Ah, Seyruun," Xelloss wisely intoned. "That explains it. Mister Zelgadiss comes here a lot, you see, and that's probably why it was so easy to summon him to Mister Ash's astral pocket. I thought they were already on their way to Vezendi, but apparently I was in error." He treaded water to the shore, holding Rezo's and Fibrizo's heads above the surface.

"I…I'm sorry, I don't follow you. Why does Zelgadiss come to Seyruun?" Rezo queried. He coughed up some lake water, sprawling in the sand, and wracked his brain for factoids on Seyruun…white magic central, led by a series of pacifist kings and princes…most recently the crown princess Gracia had fled after the alleged murder of her mother the queen's assassin, and the next daughter in line to the throne…

"Why, because he's in you-know-what with Princess Amelia Wil Teszla, of course," Xelloss coyly supplied. "It's repulsively obvious, ahaha. They travel together constantly."

"…Really? He's in _love_ with her?" Somehow this lifted Rezo's spirit to the high heavens. The idea that his boy was capable of that much trust, and devotion, to another human being, after all he had done to Zelgadiss…

Another voice crudely, blearily interjected, "What…the _fuck_…?"

Speak of the devil.

"Ah, Mister Zelgadiss," Xelloss giggled. "Morning, sunshine!"

Rezo stopped breathing.

"You're turning blue, like a bruise," Fibrizo murmured, and Rezo took another gasping gulp of air, reminded of oxygen's necessity.

"Xelloss, you _bastard,"_ the chimera moaned in a gravely voice. He sat up and shook out his water logged steel-wire hair. "I was having high tea with Amelia and her father and recapping that nonsense we endured with Gioconda and Duclis, suddenly everything went..ugh…black and I thought I had…owch…fainted and was having a _nightmare_ about you and someone _else_ I hate, but evidently…" And then Zelgadiss fell mute.

Gawking at Rezo. Eyes those of a caged beast's.

The whole world stopped spinning. All sound ceased, and not a breeze disturbed the landscape along the outer edges of Seyruun. Xelloss, Ash, and Fibrizo all froze, captivated by the unfurling tableau.

…Now was probably the time for a deeply melodramatic speech, embracing, or dual-to-the-death-throe.

Complete with snarky cackling, hand-claws, and perhaps a cliché proclamation or two along the lines of "It's been a long time," or "So we meet again, o my kinsman and foe."

Well.

Rezo could only think to feebly mumble, "Er…hi, there."

_Hi, there?! _

Oh, _bullocks_.

Zelgadiss twitched. He raised a granite, white-gloved finger, and pointed it, with remarkable steadiness, at Rezo.

"…I'm giving someone…_anyone_…ten seconds to explain _who the hell is sitting there_ in front of me looking _exactly_ like my _dead great-grandfather_. And then, if nobody supplies me with information," he added crisply, drawing his broadsword, "someone is going to lose a vital organ or two. Because I _know_ this has _something_ to do with the jar that belonged to _that_ dead demon lord." And he pointed the sword tip at Fibrizo.

The Hellmaster stood to his towering four feet of height and stuck his hands on his hips. His eyes grew greener with wrath. "Say that again, you ungrateful _freakface_. You'd be _dead _if I hadn't helped you breathe under that lake!"

Xelloss whistled. "Maybe we're all just having a wild acid dream," he suggested helpfully.

_What, now? _

In the middle of his icy fury, Zelgadiss slanted the Lesser Beast a schoolmarm-ish look of disapproval. "I don't _do_ acid, you imbecilic pile of—"

"_I found you_!" Rezo blurted then, stupidly, with inconceivable joy. Zelgadiss was about to run him through, and all he could do was pathetically slaver his happiness at this chance at reconciliation. Well, perhaps that was poetic justice, the tables aptly turned. But Rezo reached in the direction of his assailant, unabashedly blissful. "I _found_ you before _he_ did and that's all that matters!"

"Who are you?" Zelgadiss growled, jerking back. "Before WHO did? Listen, I'll poke out your useless eyeballs if you tell me you're another copy 'trying to surpass Rezo.' I swear to _gods _I will. Nevertheless, talk. NOW."

For some reason, this caused Rezo to dissolve in laughter. He covered his face for a moment, wracked with loud, rich guffaws.

Zelgadiss approached apoplectics. "HEY!" he barked. "My GOD! Are you even LISTENING to me?!"

The disgruntled exclamations were like a lullaby to Rezo, for despite their harshness, they carried the sounds of the known, the safe and secure, the patchwork of bright spots in the past with Zelgadiss in them, like sunlight piercing through the opaque, oppressive lead gratings of a window, through the tumult and darkness of Rezo's incurable blindness. So often, seemingly from toddlerhood, Zelgadiss had fussed at his comparably impractical, imaginative, self-destructive great-grandfather, had chided him for not sleeping enough, not eating enough, saying yes to too many healing requests, and loving concern had always been behind that shrewish chastising. Now Rezo felt so warm, remembering that love that hid behind the nagging and bickering. He should have been more aware of it before.

"I'm sorry! It's just…It's kind of silly to gouge out something that's already useless, my boy—I mean it's _not _a persuasive tactic!" he quipped.

But his heart was thundering in his ears; he was three feet away from the person who had single-handedly called him back from the dead, ten years ago, when Shabranigdo was defeated. The person who meant more to him than anything. The person whose _yelling_ made him feel _happy_.

"Hoh_ shits_," Zelgadiss exclaimed, staggering to his feet. "I must say, you've sure got Rezo's attitude down. And his weird-ass sense of humor. Come on, sicko. Who ARE you? Did Xelloss put you up to this? And who's the hippie?"

"I'm Ash!" the spirit of Flagoon happily boomed. "I'm a _tree_!"

Zelgadiss blinked. "Wow," he grunted. "Maybe I AM having an acid dream…"

"Zelgadiss, I can prove it's really me," Rezo pledged. Information privy only to him poured from his lips: "You like oatmeal for breakfast. With a touch of curry, of all spices, HAH, and I bought you an acoustic guitar when you were four, and when you were fifteen you told me you thought Eris was a brainless clingy slut, which is really rather rude of you, but anyway, you're alarmingly good with guns, Ra Tilt is your specialty spell, you liked to play pranks on Dilgear and Truth or Dare with Zolf, and and…"

He took a deep breath and continued:

"And alright here's a memory, when you were two you got locked into the second floor bathroom and your rear end got stuck in the toilet because you were tiny but determined to get out of diapers _that day_, my little ambitious guy, and I picked the lock to get in the bathroom and rescue you from the flushing-monster, and when you stopped crying, ha-HA, oh dear, you asked me how I picked locks and I taught you when you were older how to pick locks and safes too, and…"

He gulped.

"And…and I never had enough time for you, and I put my stupid STUPID eyes before you, and I was a _selfish damnable old fool_ and _that's_ why you started hating me, and stopped calling me—"

"_Gramps_," Zelgadiss spoke the word, unable to otherwise breathe, and without thinking.

And then the chimera blinked, and his face flushed crimson with the weirdest feeling of longing and shame and nostalgia and gratitude and regret all wrapped up into one moment…feelings he'd not had since the day Rezo died helping Lina Inverse slay the same Shabranigdo that he'd resurrected.

Rezo was, for a moment, stunned. And then he said, "Yes. Gramps. You remember."

"…Al…right, alright…I believe you. It's…you. But. How are you here? How are you back?" It was a softer, calmer question than Rezo had anticipated, had dreaded, in the bowels of Flagoon's ghost. Rezo should have known. Zelgadiss was such a rational creature, so composed and stoic, and always had been.

"That's Fibrizo's doing." Rezo gestured at the petulant demon lord. "After all the master of death would have the materials to pull back a one soul like a card out of a big file cabinet, and…"

"Not _that_ simple," Fibrizo mumbled. "Takes skill."

Rezo continued explaining. "And well, Zelgadiss, furthermore, it's only _part_ of my soul in that jar in Vezendi, contaminated. _This_ me…" He placed his hands on his chest, over his shoulder guards and mantle. "Well, _this_ me is,…just Rezo. For better or worse. Asking you to listen to me before acting, just this once."

Another pause. And then Zelgadiss gave a quiet hard laugh, a cynical hiss of "_keh_!" He sheathed his sword and he asked, "Why would I do anything as pointless and illogical as listen to _you_?"

Fibrizo bristled like a territorial lapdog. "Stop being mean to Rezo!"

"And that's _another_ thing!" Zelgadiss barked right back. "You've got that nasty little sadist at your side—Shabranigdo's bitch! How can you claim to me that you're 'just you,' free of that monster, with Hellmaster Fibrizo, his most powerful servant, clutching at your robes and _defending_ you? That's all but _paradoxical_!"

"Wait…no…" Slipping. Reconciliation, family, atonement, slipping through Rezo's fingers. Butter. Just slipping away. No. No. The lights all going out. No. "Please, my boy, I can explain…"

"That's ALWAYS your line!" Zelgadiss gritted. Rezo's desire to make contact, to seek his penance, only seemed to set off some feral fury in Zelgadiss's head, like a red flare, becoming a blaze, far past reason. "Do you really take me as _that stupid_? That gullible? That…_fickle_?! That I would _ditch _my friends and kiss your ass _again_, because you've cooked up another hare-brained pie in the sky dream that will 'make every sacrifice worth it'? YOU DREAM ON! I don't BELIEVE that garbage anymore, Rezo! Just...DIE! Just die and STAY DEAD, and be glad I'M not assisting you in getting there faster!_" _

It was a brutal, systematic assault on anything Rezo had planned to say. The Red Priest had no rebuttal, no retort. And, certainly, not the heart to defend himself to the person he'd so tragically wronged.

The ground rumbled ominously. Something was coming. "Tick-tock!" Xelloss giddily intoned.

Because the wet sand was too lumpy for steady footing, Rezo crawled on all fours over to Zelgadiss's feet. The chimera, bereft of the steam of his cathartic outburst, shifted uncomfortably at the pathetic gesture. Then Rezo felt around in the sand.

It was Fibrizo who knew, somehow, what Rezo sought. He grasped the soggy pink teddy bear, now missing one button eye, and handed it over.

"Something wicked this way coooomes," Xelloss sang, tapping his foot.

Rezo ignored Xelloss. He lifted the bear in both hands like some sepulcher in a holy investiture ceremony. "This was for you."

Zelgadiss was flabbergasted. "Gods, old man, it's a soggy _stuffed animal_. Are you _that _off your rocker?"

"When you were little. I bought it. I thought it was blue. When Eris told me its actual color, I was too ashamed by my insufficiencies to give it to you. I kept waiting to be perfect for you, to deliver what everyone expected of me. A mage's power, a saint's perfection."

Veins stood against the thin white skin of Rezo's forehead. The effort not to cry, which Zelgadiss would see as melodrama and grandstanding, was titanic.

"It was stupid. My lonely little boy would have loved the devotion behind that gift, not the gift itself. Therein lay the perfection, in the love I held but never showed you. Wasted perfection. Wasted love. I _won't_ ask you to forgive me…that would be too great a task to place on you, the victim of all this."

Zelgadiss half-heartedly bristled. "I'm NOT a victi—"

" But I just ask that you know…" Oh. It really hurt. His eyes, his tear ducts. They ached. "…that…I love you, I always did…I want you to take this…better late than never…and I want you to at least consider…not…" He choked. "…not _hating_ me. _Free_ yourself from me." He swallowed. "Deal?"

Zelgadiss was riveted in place. His huge winterstorm blue eyes drank in the sight of the bear, as if it were an old acquaintance he'd thought long dead. "Oh…yeah, wait. That bear…was in your lab…in Sairaag. Sylphiel…my friend, she was standing there praying for guidance and saw it and…she said it was…cute. It was on a shelf. With the Claire Bible stone tablet and…other stuff…"

Rezo nodded.

"I thought it…was just another…damn experiment…in magic…some valuable item…"

"Oh yes, my boy. Valuable indeed. The most valuable in the whole laboratory. Your birthday present." Rezo laughed, pitiably, brokenly. "Aren't I just an idiot?" He bowed his head.

Fibrizo scowled at Zelgadiss.

And Zelgadiss said, "Yes, you are," but then he bent…and picked up the bear. "…deal." He turned and started toward Seyruun's town square, not looking back. A diminutive girl in white, with a sensuously curved body and short, tousled hair the color of a ripe plum, rushed to greet him with a hearty embrace.

"He's leaving," said Fibrizo. "With that Justice-girl. He's _leaving you behind_." A strange green fire lit in his eyes, a betrayed, hateful, raking-coal fire, as though he were feeling Rezo's abandonment vicariously.

"Yes," Rezo replied, smiling and weeping, weeping and smiling. "Yes. I know he is. That's as it should be."

"_Is_ it?" Ash, who had been quiet for some time, pressed.

At that moment, the ground beneath Zelgadiss and Amelia crumbled.

"Annnnd it's here," Xelloss clucked.

Out from the water pipeworks beneath Seyruun, in a sickening sulfur-scented geyser, came the phantom Zanaffar. And it was bearing down on Zelgadiss and Amelia.

Fast.


	11. Trust

**Chapter 10: Trust**

"_This is why I always wonder_

_I'm a pond full of regrets_

_I always try to not remember rather than forget_

_This is why I always whisper_

_When vagabonds are passing by_

_I tend to keep myself away from their goodbyes_

_Tide will rise and fall along the bay_

_and I'm not going anywhere_

_I'm not going anywhere_

_People come and go and walk away_

_but I'm not going anywhere_

_I'm not going anywhere_

_This is why I always whisper_

_I'm a river with a spell_

_I like to hear but not to listen,_

_I like to say but not to tell_

_This is why I always wonder_

_There's nothing new under the sun_

_I won't go anywhere so give my love to everyone_

_Tide will rise and fall along the bay_

_and I'm not going anywhere_

_I'm not going anywhere_

_People come and go and walk away_

_but I'm not going anywhere_

_I'm not going anywhere"_

_~Keren Ann_

_****************************************************************_

In that awful moment, Rezo considered only two things:

One, the Zanaffar had emerged in Seyruun.

Two, Zelgadiss was also in Seyruun.

_No_.

He acted without thinking. "_HOY, YOU…VERY UGLY THING_!" he screamed. He staggered to his feet and flailed his arms wildly, spraying sand and lake water everywhere. His staff jingled a sickly sweet song.

His frenzied behavior did its job: The Zanaffar turned from the shocked pair of young lovers, and from all the collateral it would have done to the city. Lashing its tail, still missing one leg, it hissed delightedly…

…and charged the group on the beach.

"Thanks _so_ much, Mister Greywers," Xelloss trilled through his teeth. He grabbed Fibrizo around the waist. The Hellmaster yelped in protest, but Xelloss, far past niceties, acted of his own volition. The air shimmered with black waves and magenta sparkles as he teleported out of range of the enormous beast's bulldozing path.

Rezo scrambled around in the sand, wracking his mental library for three lifetimes of knowledge of defensive spells that could dent an impenetrable Zanaffar skin. Spells from other worlds, perhaps? From Chaotic Blue or Deathfog? Or something to distract it while he fled? _Damn!_ He couldn't think of _anything_ that didn't require an immensely lengthy chant. And the thing was almost on top of him already. He tripped and fell on his side.

Oh, horsefeathers, what a way to die. Squashed by a shiny lion/lizard/wolf hybrid.

But something—someone--else bore down on him with superhuman speed. That someone hoisted him bodily and flung him out of the way.

"You DON'T get to go down in some sacrificial blaze of glory, you old _goat_! _RUN_!"

"OOF!" Rezo winced upon impact_. "Zelgadiss?!" _He shoved himself upright.

"RUN, I said!" The chimera drew away the Zanaffar's attention with his pulsing red broadsword.

Rezo puffed up in his soggy red robes, incensed. Priggishly he retorted, "Boy, I am a _Mage_ and I am _certainly_ not going to let you fight that monstrosity on your—"

"_SHUT UP and stay OUT of this_!"

Rezo bristled more. But a battle of stubborn will with Zelgadiss boded instant failure, so the Red Priest retreated. He used his soft-shoed feet to sense vibrations in the earth and calculate distance from the Zanaffar.

But he was hardly going to refrain from meddling.

He squeezed his staff and implored his pool capacity to a maximum. "_Come on_," he grumbled impatiently, as incredible magical potency gathered humming in his body.

Zelgadiss continued to lure the Zanaffar's glowing head by the light of his Astral Vine. The beast lashed like a cobra. Zelgadiss jerked his other arm along the hem of his cloak, and pulled an enchanted dagger.

He plunged it right into the beast's eye.

The Zanaffar shrieked.

"Nothing like a Ragna Blade infused dagger," Zelgadiss growled. "Thanks for that tip, Lina…" He crouched in the sand, awaiting the next attack.

The Zanaffar's tail whipped out and slashed blindly, on a collision course for the two Greywers.

"Look out!" came a bell-like new voice. The sound of suction filled the air and an enormous barrier of some kind erected, momentarily disorienting the silver beast.

Amelia stood in front of Zelgadiss and Rezo, hands extended firmly, palms out.

"Good one, Amelia!" Zelgadiss barrel rolled in front of her. "MOVE, I'll enforce it!"

"Right!" The curvy raven-haired monarch dodged, giving the chimera more leeway to let loose some serious shamanism. Zelgadiss flung up a Wind Barrier but the jowls of the Zanaffar easily ripped through it. The chimera cursed passionately and ducked. He fired a Ra Tilt at the thing; no dice.

"Amelia, together!" he barked.

"_Baum Diem Wind_!" they chanted in perfect unison, baritone and soprano lacing.

The Zanaffar snorted at the draft into its nostrils.

Rezo took advantage of the many little distractions to conjure something ferocious. He rushed backward until he felt lake water rising around his ankles, his knees. Hastily he incanted a Laser Breath, a golden draconic spell that drew on the same power as the Zanaffar and Gorun Nova, the weapon that had legendarily defeated the beast in Sairaag. He formed a circle with his two joined hands from which the spell would discharge, in place of a dragon's mouth. _Almost done, almost done_…

But the Zanaffar spotted Rezo's threatening spell and struck far too fast. Its gaping maw closed in.

Zelgadiss caught sight of his disobedient kinsman. "_Dammit, Rezo_!" he roared. He flung another dagger at the Zanaffar; the aim was lethally apt, but the dagger just plinked off the armor on its enormous ribcage.

That was when Zelgadiss's past met his future.

"_Visfrank_!" Amelia splashed in front of Rezo and swung her magically charged fist at the Zanaffar's cheek. The impact was explosive. Uninjured but quite dazed, the beast snapped back its head and twisted its neck. It uttered an incredulous "RURRRG?" sound.

Rezo's jaw dropped at the fortuitous timing. "Ah! _Thank you_, miss…?"

"By the GODS!" the girl shrieked.

"What is it?!"

"You're a REAL Wise Man of the Age!" Amelia clasped Rezo's nearest hand, apparently enrapt.

_Good job?_

"Er, yes…"

"And Zelgadiss's _great_-_grandpa_!"

"Yes, I am, and…?"

"Could I have your _autograph_? And could my daddy have a statue of you commissioned for the palace foyer? Verily the forces of Justice would _sing your praises_!"

Rezo's brain short-circuited. "What?" he squawked.

"AMELIA!" Zelgadiss bellowed, streaking past. "Get him out of range! And if he HAS to stick around, make him try and think up something USEFUL!"

Owch.

Amelia transformed from otaku to efficient warrior. "Ray Wing!" she hollered, lifting Rezo high into the air in a graceful backward arc.

"W-wait!" Rezo wriggled in her grasp. "I know this spell too, let ME--"

"Hello there, neighbor!" A disturbingly dark presence congested near his head. Xelloss. Still carrying Fibrizo, who was moaning about airsickness.

Eureka! "You!" Rezo implored.

"Me!" Xelloss cheerfully confirmed.

"You're a mazoku priest and general! Can't you get rid of that thing?!"

"When the time is right," the demon calmly intoned.

Cold fury welled up in Rezo's chest. Fury, and determination. Maybe he couldn't rely on Xelloss, but… "Fine," he growled. "I understand. Your Highness—Amelia, isn't it?—take me lower. Land me on a building."

Amelia hesitated. "What are you…?"

"Do it now!"

"A-alright." Meekly the princess lit on the top of the Seyruun Sorcerer's Guild Library, shaped like a pentacle. Rezo landed with her.

The Red Priest struck the mosaic-tile ground of the roof with his staff. The metallic rod sang like a coloratura soprano, as staggering volumes of white magic encircled it. Rezo's very essence.

"Goooood," he mumbled, as in a trance, his face ashen and almost mystically transported. "Mmyesss."

And then he banked everything, everything that mattered to him and more…on the most powerful individual present—on a demon lord whom he had promised escape from Nothingness.

"FIBRIZO!" he boomed. "I'm going to trust you now—to help me!"

In the air nearby, in Xelloss's arms, the tiny lord of hell froze. Then something dawned on his face. Something nascent. New, and fresh. And…pure. "Trust…me?" he squeaked.

The Zanaffar turned from its brawl with Zelgadiss. It drooled and jeered at the ripples in the astral plane caused by Rezo's frantic on-the-spot problem solving.

"Please—give me some of your power! Only fusion magic can defeat this thing!" Rezo aimed his staff at Fibrizo without waiting for a response. Like a vacuum, like white silk submerged in inky dye, the air in a radius around Rezo's staff turned milky, and then it sucked vast quantities of magic from Fibrizo's body, and turned black. And then it became a colorless sphere.

Zelgadiss too landed with a thud on the roof, battered and sweaty. "What's he doing?" he snapped. Amelia seized his hand and pulled him aside. "W-whoa, wha—"

"Let him," the girl breathed. "Just do it….it feels right. He needs to. You need him to, Mister Zelgadiss." She clung to his arm, insistently.

"But…" Zelgadiss's voice trailed off, with youthful uncertainty, all his tough-guy bluffs called in one instant. He gazed at the back of his great-grandfather's vibrant red robes, and all those intense and confusing feelings rushed back at him unbidden once more.

Xelloss and Fibrizo landed on the other side of Rezo. The Lesser Beast gave a low, appreciative whistle at the ad-hoc magic unfurling. "I guess this rather botches your plans," he murmured at his boss.

The Hellmaster just watched, astounded. "Trust me…?" he mumbled.

Rezo chanted something in a guttural tongue and flung out his arms, sparing no theatrics. A gargantuan, transluscent red sphere materialized between his spread limbs. The sphere reshaped into something like a silversmith's forge, with Fibrizo's and his own magics fusing into a blade on it. "_Boy_!" he crowed—with inconceivable merriment given their dire straits. "I haven't tried _this_ in over a _century_! I sure hope I translated this spell correctly! HA!" A rather silly smile cracked his perfect ivory face, which he turned in his kinsman's direction.

Zelgadiss, poor rational creature that he was, sacrificed a blood vessel or two to his great-grandfather's cavalierly experimental disposition. A wordless sound faintly like _"GRARARGH_!" escaped him.

This only extracted greater gusto—peppered, perhaps, with a touch of (harmless?) insanity—from Rezo. "AH HAH _HAAAAH_, It's _alright_, my friends, I have it ALL under control!"

"—said Don Quixote," Zelgadiss grunted.

"This guy's a _riot_!" Xelloss hooted. "Mister Zelgadiss, how come all your relatives are _so_ much more _fun_ than you?"

"Kiss my ass, mazoku," the chimera snarled.

Rezo was busy fashioning a blade out of Fibrizo's black energies, and his own holy energies, fused as black-gold. The result was something like a Ragna Blade from the Claire Bible, straight from the Lord of Nightmares Herself, only more raw, less refined, and less predictable. Rezo's hair was already bleaching from rich maroon to dull white from the sheer energy potency; his pool capacity was swiftly dipping to zero. "Damn," he hissed. He gripped the blade in his hands. "Alright, then, let's make a quick job of this! Everyone _get back_!"

The Zanaffar barreled toward its most threatening new opponent. It reared up, at eye level with the building, drawing back its remaining front limb.

"LOOK OUT!" Zelgadiss bawled. He dashed forward to seize Rezo.

But another body got in his way—Ash's.

The spirit of Flagoon stepped up serenely behind Rezo, who was struggling to stand. He put his arms around Rezo's waist. "You can do this," he said. "You must. I'm sorry…it will hurt."

"So be it," Rezo gritted, and with a mighty swing, he impaled the Zanaffar through the heart…

…at the same time that it impaled him through the belly.

Amelia covered her mouth. A strangled sound escaped it.

Zelgadiss, both shocked at galvanized at once, squared his jaw and reached a hand stiffly for Rezo, without really moving. Through his fingers as he watched, across a somehow impenetrable five-foot distance, his great-grandfather was dying again.

Rezo gurgled in mind-mangling pain. The Zanaffar let out a noise somewhere between misery and amusement, a series of congested, almost human, chortles. It retracted its tentacle from the Red Priest's gut. "_Kill me, will you_?" it gargled.

Xelloss put Fibrizo down…smiling twistedly. "Why, _sure_," he murmured. He hunched forward like a predator, eyes open and fixed on the silver beast. Then he slid off into the invisible.

"Xelloss, don't leave me!" Fibrizo shrieked.

"It's okay," Ash murmured in Rezo's ear, over and over. "It's okay. It's okay. You're succeeding. You've weakened it. Reach down… The way out of this is there."

Rezo's eyes leaked in a torrent of agony. He bit down on his tongue and tasted blood. His belly was on fire, and he reached down and felt …the hilt of a dagger…where there should be a hole in him. "…it's the…"

"The Blessed Blade," Ash whispered warmly. "Yes. It killed your copy, but you are not your copy, Sir Rezo. You are _you_. Now, use it."

"But…"

Ash explained gently, like a kindly schoolteacher with a confused and frightened child. "Stab the Zanaffar with it, and you will unlock its seal from the astral side. You will open it to attacks from the astral plane. One of your traveling companions is already waiting for that opportunity, so he can finish it off. Now, strike, Sir Rezo."

"But it's…in me…"

"You have to pull it out."

Rezo's weeping crescendoed. "It…_hurts_…"

"Growing does," Ash crooned. "If you need me, I will help you. Draw on my reserves, friend. Against my trunk. Under my branches. You can do this."

Rezo didn't fully understand, but he knew he had to concede to this spirit of healing and greenness and growth. Slowly, every inch shredding at muscle and tissue and flesh, he extracted the Blessed Blade from his belly. There was a disgusting squelch, as his own blood followed in a small stream of red.

Ash put his hands over the wound. "Throw it."

"Rezo!" There was _that voice_ again. "Rezo! REZO!"

Zelgadiss. Was Zelgadiss calling him now, or was that his memory again…? He couldn't tell…but…

Yes. If his boy could call him back from the dead….if Zelgadiss could believe there was a shred of decency left in Rezo…

…then Rezo could kill a Zanaffar.

With every ounce of energy he had left, Rezo hurled the Blessed Blade upward.

It struck the silver beast in the same place that his earlier fusion magic had hit. With a wild and feral screech, a death-roar, the Zanaffar's whole body trembled and unstably sizzled, fading….

And into that moment of perfect opportunity, a swirling black cone, the length of a human's body, impaled the Zanaffar…from within. The monster twitched and gagged, reared up impotently, squirmed like a skewered pig.

The cone dissolved and became Xelloss, his hands pried through a hole in the Zanaffar's gelatinous chest, his torso emerging from what looked like a black hole, into Nothingness and the black tide of Chaos and Night. He cocked his head and peeked open his cold amethyst eyes. He looked…almost casual. Placidly he declared, "Now, Red Priest. Now is the time." And then the very sky thickened and darkened to pitch around him.

Rezo nearly retched at the overwhelming aura of bloodlust, inhuman bloodlust, that roiled from Xelloss's astral core. He nodded, going limp in Ash's arms, recognizing with gratitude that his task was complete.

The Lesser Beast smiled, smiled with dimples, as he elaborated, like singing a lullaby, "Come away, come away now, dear Zanaffar. Come away…"

And then his face became wholly different. Perverse. Hungry. Tight with malice.

"…and DIE!"

"_Don't look_--!" Zelgadiss grabbed Amelia and forced a hand over her eyes.

It happened so quickly that Amelia or any other innocent wouldn't have registered it anyhow.

Xelloss struck out his arms and effortlessly crushed the Zanaffar's skull. The beast teetered and wailed one last time, before Xelloss whipped backward and inward, and caused the beast's entire carcass, guts and all, to invert. In the same savagely graceful gesture, Xelloss pulled the Zanaffar entirely into the black hole from which he'd emerged. A grating, screeching sound, and the stray giggles of the Lesser Beast, lingered on the silent, grave-like stillness for several moments after they'd vanished.

Gone.

"…Rezo!" Zelgadiss relearned how to use his legs. He released his grasp of Amelia—and his tendency to ponder before acting—and ran to the unlikely hero's side.

"I'm alright…I'm alright I'm alright," Rezo chanted, doubled over and spilling blood. He tried to smile but then he shuddered and heaved, and whimpered. "Ah _gods_…! I'm alright…_alright_…!"

"Amelia…" Zelgadiss sounded so lost.

"I've got him." The hyperbolic princess was so composed now, so professional, as she rushed over and pressed her small soft hands over the wound. She cast a Resurrection on Rezo's torso. The blood clotted, but the Red Priest looked paler than spring thaw.

Zelgadiss's own composure returned. "Just…take it easy." He braced Rezo.

Ash stepped back, smiling.

Fibrizo stood alone, behind them all, hugging himself. "Don't go," he said, and no one heard.

Xelloss reappeared out of the shred in the fabric of space, with little radiating chunks of Zanaffar-guts pulsing on his tidy black robes. He tsked impassively and shook off like an alpha wolf satisfied by bringing down a hefty kill. And then, with an incongruous daintiness, he combed his silky purple hair straight. "Done," he chirped. "Our bastardized Zanaffar is ancient history."

"Holy shit," Rezo exclaimed, rather impiously. And then he clapped a hand over his mouth, scandalized at himself—despite having a barely-stitched hole in his belly which was a much more pressing matter than the filth of his language.

"Well," Zelgadiss muttered, holding his kinsman up by one arm, "you've got the _noun_ right."

Ash laughed affably, like always, and Amelia, once she got it, mewled in protest.

"My, _my_!" Xelloss trilled, with that cheer that was so acridly annoying that it could dissolve lead paint. "I heard that! Anyway, Mister Rezo, I _thought_ you were a _priest_!"

Rezo hemmed and hawed a bit, pale cheeks flushing.

But Zelgadiss was the man armed with pithy rebuttals today. "So are _you_," he snapped, and slanted the Lesser Beast a sardonic gaze. "Doesn't seem to help _your _conduct much."

"Awww. Did you just defend your papaw?" Xelloss's smile went lupine, mocking, his cute dimples somehow sinister.

The temperature of Zelgadiss's gaze dropped fifty degrees below zero. "Hardly. You son of a bitch. Don't prod at me."

Rezo cringed. "You must be hungry this afternoon," he murmured, of Xelloss's particularly nasty passive-aggression and the negative juices he was surely squeezing out from both gentlemen Greywers. Sipping it up with relish.

"Never around you lot." The demon shrugged with artificial innocence, confirming the suspicion.

"Oh, fuck off, Xelloss," Zelgadiss growled. "I'm having a bad enough day as it is. You served your purpose, now get out."

Xelloss gave a breezy, indifferent laugh. "I'm awaiting orders from my current employer."

"Meaning Fibrizo?"

"Yes, meaning Fibrizo. Good boy, Mister Zelgadiss. Have a golden star."

The younger Greywers snarled, whirling on his heel to face any direction but Xelloss's.

Somewhere in this interval, Ash had taken Rezo into his arms. "That was really incredible, Sir Rezo," he said.

Amelia approached the revered healer with a little white orb of light in her hands. "Here. Let me help you some more. Thank you for keeping that thing out of my city…and protecting Mister Zelgadiss."

Zelgadiss stiffened, and didn't turn.

"I'm uh…here," Fibrizo, the employer in question, bleated behind them.

Zelgadiss's eyes darkened with vindictive pleasure; at last, someone on whom to righteously project his rage. "I somehow suspect this is all your fault, you little…" He fished for a word strong enough to convey his loathing, towering over the demon lord.

Fibrizo wasn't looking at him, but rather, at Rezo. Pigeon-toed. Like a real child worried about his…

"But Mister Zelgadiss," Amelia cooed in protest, "without Hellmaster Fibrizo, Mister Rezo would still be dead."

Rezo could hear it now: _And your point is? _Or perhaps: _That's another reason to be angry with the little bugger._

But Zelgadiss kept his eyes averted to the Seyruun skyline, quiet for a long, long moment. "Let's get back to the palace," he finally grunted. "Rezo…I lost the bear."

The Red Priest wasn't sure whether or not to believe what felt like some kind of tenuous pardon from his kinsman. But he chose to honor the détente while he could. "That's alright, my boy," he breathed.

"It'll turn up when the right time comes," Ash added, with confidence. "For now, let's get Sir Rezo to a bed. Right, Master Zelgadiss?"

"Whatever." Zelgadiss dismissed them with a wave of his hand. He pulled up his white hood and scarf to conceal the face he mistakenly thought repulsive, and skulked the direction of Prince Philionel's palace.

Amelia sighed. "A part of him is happy," she whispered to Rezo. "It's just all so…well…complicated. But…he tells me so little of his past…maybe you, Mister Rezo, could…well sometime….for tea, you and I…?"

"That's alright," Rezo repeated, with a mournful smile. "I'd be honored. Whenever you like, Miss Amelia. It would be delightful."

Amelia hastily curtsied, and trotted off to catch up with Zelgadiss.

"Orders, Lord Hellmaster?" Xelloss probed into the silence.

Fibrizo turned his more familiar scowl of peevish malice on Xelloss. "Nothing. Go away. I'll call you back later."

Xelloss blinked. "Alright then." With a fizzling sound he vanished.

_Give THAT poor fellow a raise_, Rezo thought.

Ash carried the Red Priest in pursuit of the two additions to their caravan, and Rezo felt the strangest adrenaline let-down, as though the moment he'd been awaiting—reunion with Zelgadiss—had been neither as dramatic nor as mundane as he had pictured. Some sour, anticlimactic thing in the middle, and his boy was already out of reach again. He felt so…heavy.

But that was when he felt something tugging on his robe sleeve.

Fibrizo. His tiny hand gripping that sleeve like a lifeline. "I like red. Can I…stay with you?"

Like an imprinted duckling.

Rezo was floored. "Er uh. I…"

"You said you trust me. So can I stay?"

Rezo's blood ran cold. Did he really say that to the Hellmaster? And could he rescind those words now…? No. He couldn't. Somehow, he felt, the damage would be irrevocable if he did. "…I…"

"Sure he does!" Ash happily boomed. "And sure you can! I'll carry you, too!"

"No." Fibrizo's fist tightened even more on Rezo's sleeve. "I'm sticking with him. He said he trusts me."

No going back now. Rezo nodded tiredly, absently, and dozed off in Ash's arms, for just a moment of respite.


	12. Atone

**Chapter 11: Atone**

**(Author's note: Pay attention as you read. I do not follow a linear chronology. But I try to make time-jumps and flashbacks as clear as possible. Watch for shifts in tense; I try to tip off the reader with those. I'm setting it up so that the events of my fanfiction predicate, and then intersect with, the events of the Evolution-R animanga. Also, expect this chapter to be dialogue-heavy. However I hope that the dialogue reveals character and plot rather than effecting an air of "talking heads." Regardless, enjoy!)**

"_Within the heart of every stray lies the singular desire to be loved." ~Unknown _

_******************************************_

A month after the day that Seyruun palace guards carried Rezo's Zanaffar-battered body into a guest room, stripped him, bathed him, laundered and re-dressed him, cast a barrage of Resurrections on the hole in his gut, and left him to the company of Zelgadiss, Amelia, Prince Philionel, Ash, and the weird little green-eyed girly boy clinging to his robe sleeve—a month after all of that, several events coalesce.

Zuuma, known to Vezendi and daylight as Radok Ranzaad, seeks to control the mazoku through the remnants of Shabranigdo residing in the Hellmaster's Jar. He channels that power into his arms, for incessant regeneration of those vile limbs. Zuuma starts a nice bloody battle with Lina. He kills his son Abel in the process.

Xelloss, who is after all an efficiency expert, decides that this dramatic dawdling grows tedious. In true-form—and a black swirling cone has never been so menacing—Xelloss impales and skewers Zuuma. Zuuma shrieks his last, and vaporizes. Gone.

Ozer confesses her servitude both to Zuuma and to Radok, as her contract is binding to both: the same man, after all. But now that Zuuma-Radok is dead, she is a free agent. A free agent who is devoted above all to Aka Houshi Rezo. And then the wooden automaton produces the real Hellmaster's Jar with the confident nonchalance of a queen.

Xelloss goes for the jar. Ozer denies him. Ozer primly informs him that the Hellmaster's Jar is hers to protect. Jar-Rezo's will, his posthumous intent, does not yet permit her to acquiesce the Hellmaster's Jar to demons—particularly to such a ruthless and high-ranking demon as the Lesser Beast.

Xelloss, visibly pissed, announces a temporary cease-fire. And then he vanishes.

But here's the kicker. Most recently, this very minute in fact, Zelgadiss Greywers stands in the middle of a forest outside Vezendi.

He spreads his legs and crouches. He flings his arms high. He bears the real Hellmaster's Jar, snatched from Ozer. His horrified allies Lina, Pokota, Gourry, and Amelia are his captive audience. They think he will smash it.

But Zelgadiss doesn't smash the Hellmaster's Jar.

Zelgadiss loses his composure utterly to this ugly black crockery that holds a piece of his great-grandfather's soul. To this piece of the person who claimed to heal all, but wounded him. To this piece of a person who left him so bruised and lost and uncertain. To a last trace of childhood, of "Gramps."

So many happy things he should feel free to tell Jar-Rezo about his life, his travels, his adventures, since his great-grandfather died. But instead Zelgadiss's words snare in the choking web that is his own grief and bitterness. Stuck, stuck in the past, in a moment, in an anguished moment when flesh became stone. Stuck in that betrayal and disillusion. Stuck stuck stuck.

So instead of a greeting, instead of a compromise, Zelgadiss screams accusations and demands, red-faced and ashamed of his raw emotions, into the forest clearing, at this remnant of Gramps.

Finally the crucial word from the crucial mouth comes.

"_REZO_!" Zelgadiss finishes his tirade with the mangled snarl of his kinsman's name.

And then—_only then_—does the being in the jar awaken. With a flurry of prism-flashes, like the aurora borealis birthing from pitch black. _Only then_ does the Rezo in the Hellmaster's Jar speak.

Just like when Rezo had raised Shabranigdo and been violently consumed by the ma-oh. Then, too, on the battlefield, when even Lina could think of no solution, Zelgadiss screamed Rezo's name…and Rezo awoke. And Rezo helped Lina kill Shabranigdo. Only then.

_Only Zelgadiss can awaken Rezo from slumber. Only Zelgadiss._

_Now, why is that_?

The voice of Rezo breathes dark velvet into the woods, and the voice of Rezo says Zelgadiss's name right back. Gently. With a bit of wryness, a great deal of familiarity, and an echo of regret.

And Zelgadiss doesn't know what to do.

He stands there holding the jar while Gramps's voice teasingly makes it cloud up, and rain, and clear up, to give evidence of his authenticity to Lina Inverse and her other cohorts. Gramps's voice laughs a little, the Jar giving off a pleasant sparkle from the sheen of fresh rain on its surface, and Lina, sodden, gives a mild squawk of protest.

Zelgadiss registers neither the humor nor the irritation of the situation. He doesn't know what to do.

So.

What did Zelgadiss do _before_ this point?

What did Zelgadiss do with the _other_ part of Rezo's soul, liberated wholly of Shabranigdo in death, resurrected by Hellmaster Fibrizo? The part of Rezo's soul that's still in Rezo's old, reborn body?

What happened in that month _prior_ to Zelgadiss laying his hands on the real Hellmaster's Jar? And what happened _after_ he found that jar, too?

_Pay close attention, friend. The answer to those questions comprises the rest of this story. _

It began, again, with a singularly random (and ugly) object: a pair of fuzzy teal slippers.

Yes, really.

A fuzzy pair of teal slippers which Fibrizo himself procured for Zelgadiss's convalescing kinsman.

This small, precious act of kindness was spurred by a conversation between the Red Priest, reclining on a plush Seyruun palace bed, recovering from killing a Zanaffar, and the Hellmaster, seated near him and still clinging to his sleeve. In a conference room nearby, Zelgadiss, Amelia, and Ash consulted feverishly with Prince Philionel.

"…So how come you can't swim?" The voice was timid and young.

Rezo had to remind himself that its owner was the master of death, decay, and suffering. But then, why not take Fibrizo's behavior at face-value? Why not treat current behavior, and not prior knowledge? Rezo wanted to see into what maze, with, hopefully, a promising outlet, that might lead him. "Ah," he chuckled, in a superb display of congeniality and nonchalance. He waved his hand. "It's a rather silly story."

"Tell me anyway," the Hellmaster commanded. He scooted his tiny rump closer to Rezo's body, which smelled like incense and mulled cider and soap, which felt like sun-warmed velvet. A welcoming set of sensations, which lesser demons, scouts among their human prey, reported as the smells and feelings of the human "home."

_Home_…

A place, a person, to which one returned. Always expecting you. Home. There was nothing more alien to a demon lord, a servant of Nothingness and Destruction.

No, a slave.

These blasphemous thoughts frightened Fibrizo, and so, before thinking to ask permission, he burrowed against Rezo's side, into the warm smell and feeling that he secretly would now call "home." He would just…be testing it. No big deal…just testing what these humans whose lives he dispensed felt… "I'm glad I brought you back, by the way," he mumbled. "You're…I've never met someone like you before."

Rezo wasn't repulsed by the nestling little body. For he refused to let himself assign that fragile form a fixed, condemning identity. Refused to think on how Fibrizo could actually crush him with his pinky. He refused to do what he hoped his own forgivers would also refuse to do.

He experimented with sliding his arm around Fibrizo's shoulders. When that earned still more rummaging and soft burrowing, he laughed and quipped, "Unlike anyone you've ever met? Well I hope that's a compliment."

"It is," came the Hellmaster's muffled, petulant voice. "So tell me…about swimming."

"I can't swim…" Rezo smiled ruefully … "Because my hunger to see began when I tried to swim as a little boy. Oh, but dash it, I'm getting ahead of myself. At the Sorcerer's Guild Academy where I, a foundling, lived and trained, we had gym class in spring, and I hated getting into the water….because well….everyone was fond of the game called Marco Polo."

"What's that?"

"Well it's to do with some explorer from another world, a world prophesied in the future even…the person who is 'It' has to shout 'Marco' over and over with his eyes closed, and everyone else in the water tries to swim away, but has to should 'Polo' over and over to give Marco the chance to find and catch them. Then whoever is caught is Marco. Well a lot of the Marcos cheated, as you can imagine. But one Marco, hah….one Marco was physically unable to cheat." Rezo tapped the lids of his closed eyes, sheepishly.

"…You." A vengeful gleam came into Fibrizo's emerald gaze. "They made you be Marco always."

"Yes. And well at first it was almost…fun…to be special, singled out that way…but then…sometimes…frequently, in fact… I'd shout 'Marco Marco Marco!' until I was hoarse…only to discover …rather shivering there, in the shallows of the campus lake, that at least an hour ago…well…"

"They left you. Left you alone. Because you were different and they were tired of it." Fibrizo recited this like a loathed mantra. His little face twisted.

"I guess you could say that, yes. So I got a little reluctant to go swimming. I made up excuses to skip gym class the older I got. Hah, I don't even know why I'm burdening you with this. I should have just said I forgot…"

Fibrizo exploded. "That…that makes _no sense_!"

"What? Why?"

"You're too _kind!_ People _can't_ be mean if _you're_ not!"

Rezo laughed that sudden, hearty guffaw that rang in the guest bedroom's coffers. His almost concave, wounded stomach shook. "Oh, Fibrizo, if human nature were so simple, you monsters would die of starvation."

"But you're so kind! You're so kind it…it almost _hurts _to be near you." The octaves of Fibrizo's voice steadily climbed. "I…I'll find all those bad kids and SQUASH 'em!" A flurry of golden baubles swarmed his inky head at his emotional outburst.

"Now, now." Rezo's smile was serene. "They were just foolish children, likely foolish adults, even dead now, as my healing skills acquired me longevity and they are probably pushing up daisies. I had the last laugh, and furthermore, Fibrizo, vengeance is a tremendous, self-feeding waste of energy. Unless of course, your vengeance is to _live_, and be alright."

A long pause. "…How can I make it better?" A different voice. Ten times as shy, as quaking, as afraid of transgression. The Lord of Hell was offering, and simultaneously asking permission to offer, help to the mere human Rezo Greywers.

Rezo felt something inside him thaw. "Well, I will tell you another secret. My feet are almost always too cold. And right now, this bed is quite cushy, but….well I'm so bloody tall, and my feet stick out from the covers…" He wiggled his bared toes in demonstration.

"You want some socks?" Fibrizo was as eager as a barely-weaned puppy. Eager for something he alone could share with this weird, extraordinary human who had said to him "_I'm here_." Who had not left him stranded on the tightrope, but had held it steady and waited.

Rezo gave a thoughtful noise, a habitual "_mmm_." "Rather," he elaborated, "some fuzzy slippers. I love fuzzy slippers. Get them in an outrageous color, would you?" His blind brown eyes sparkled with quirky humor. "We can have a laugh at everyone thinking I picked them because I can't see. They wouldn't dream of viewing it as my deliberate choice, HA HA. Ask a guard—I bet they'll get you anything you want!"

"O-okay!" Like a kindergartener on his first day of school, Fibrizo hopped off the bed and timidly but eagerly dashed down the hallway. It wasn't long before he returned with a pair of slippers, the exact degree of fuzziness and garishness of hue requested, on a plush velvet pillow. "Got em!"

Amelia was hot on Fibrizo's heels. Still clad in her loose-fitted white traveling attire, she swooshed into Rezo's guest bedroom and plopped onto the mattress with gusto. "Tea and biscuits are coming, Mister Rezo!" she trilled, as though inaugurating a pajama party. "And now you and I shall talk!"

A bubble of tender warmth expanded in Rezo's chest. This girl was almost impossible to dislike; how had Zelgadiss, with his dreadfully handicapped social skills, found such a gregarious and sweet soul? It was nothing short of a miracle.

Fibrizo scowled at the theft of limelight, but dutifully applied the hideous slippers to Rezo's bare feet.

Amelia paused, blue eyes wide with horror. She probably thought Fibrizo was doing something patently sadistic, like casting a hex on Rezo's toes the better to individually break them. "Er…what is he doing?" she whispered.

Rezo shrugged, attempting to dumb the incident down to the casual. "My feet were cold. I asked for some coverage and Fibrizo obliged. He's being very nice. What do you think of the color?" He grinned.

Amelia froze as though her brain were a clock whose gears had momentarily stalled. Then she shook off and stuttered, "Er uh they're…quite…furry and…unique!" She flushed.

Rezo's grin threatened to split his face in half. "I know they're ugly. It's my little joke."

"It…is?"

"Mm. Sometimes the best way to cope with an ailment is to laugh at it."

"Oh." Comprehension dawned on Amelia's face, and she nodded. "That's a very Just sentiment, mister Rezo."

"Rezo is smart," Fibrizo reported, without even really grasping the humor. "He trusts me too…I think I'm going to adopt Rezo."

Again Amelia looked perplexed.

Rezo blinked and then, abruptly, roared with laughter. "This is one old dog you're adopting, who certainly sports no new tricks!"

"I don't care," Fibrizo petulantly retorted. "You're mine…only…not like how I said you were before. You can do…stuff. Whatever you like. But I'm sticking with you. For a little bit."

An awkward silence followed this vulnerable admission. As an ornately uniformed servant wheeled in the accoutrements of tea, Amelia broke that silence by completely overhauling topics. "So mister Rezo, I expect you to give me many ravishing and adorable anecdotes about mister Zelgadiss's childhood."

"Oh, indeed?" Rezo took his tea, an orange-scented Earl Grey, and gave it a genteel sip. "I suppose you'll want to know more about him before you and I become inlaws, hmm?"

Amelia jolted and the entire biscuit tray upset. She fumbled with scone-guts and other pastries all over the fancy tile floor while mumbling, "Er uh I! I don't know what you're talking ab-b-bout! We're just friends, r-right?"

"Oh, piffle. Just friends, my foot." Rezo spoke with the charming anachronisms of a human age three centuries past. Serenely he nibbled on a salvaged biscuit. "My dear, it's obvious that you two are emotionally inter-dependent—he on you for the lifting-up of burdens and hopes, you on him for practicality, security, groundedness…you the rhetorician, he the activist, why it's a perfect harmony of opposites. On top of that, though, I am a mage, and mages have the ability to murkily foresee things. I can anticipate you two together for quite a protracted time, and marriage seems only logical as the reason. You are in love, are you not?"

"Y…yes. He…hugging and holding hands, that's…not mister Zelgadiss's style, but… he grabs my pinky in his, when we…stand in crowds. He carries me when my feet are tired, and…he gets nervous when I jump up in high places and sing about justice and world peace…Recovery…" The diminutive princess leaned across Rezo and cast another healing spell on his stomach. Her soft dark hair brushed his neck as she leaned in.

Rezo stiffened politely, observing decorum with a much younger, single female, but Amelia gave his nearest hand a kind squeeze. "It's alright mister Rezo. My opinion of you isn't as low as you might think. Anyway…We even kissed once…camping out with our traveling friends, under the stars…! Zelgadiss pretended he was asleep and that he didn't remember it the next day, but his face turned very red." She giggled; the sound was light and bell-like.

The girl's sweet-scented breath tickled Rezo's nose and rustled his bangs, and he chuckled. "That sounds like Zelgadiss. My dear, he has it bad for you. Very bad indeed."

Amelia sat back and shifted weight on the bed, curling her short, shapely legs under her. "You know," she murmured, "sometimes I don't know if it's worth all the effort, mister Rezo. He's so…closed-off, so guarded. It's always one step forward, two steps backward. But he's so important to me."

"Ah, Amelia." Rezo folded his hands contritely in his lap. "Don't despair that it's you who…inspires that in him. His basic suspicion toward living things is my doing. You see, Zelgadiss and I were once very close. Oh yes. He was my little trooper, you know. He went with me everywhere, was my little standard-bearer. And as Shabranigdo gained greater control over my actions, I took advantage of his trust…in appalling ways." His throat tightened.

"His body," she said, without flinching. Apparently she'd been expecting the topic to arise.

"Yes. His body, his prison. An experiment in my own quest, and the loosest of translations in granting his request for 'strength.' As I said…appalling."

"Well I…I guess you're right, in a way." Amelia cupped her chin and collected her thoughts. Her face strained, somewhere between making an indignant outburst, and politely disregarding the allegations Rezo brought against himself. For here, at the most basic analysis, was an old man injured on behalf of the entire city of Seyruun. A gentle old man, but one with a past that was hardly pure as the driven snow. "I watch him struggle with it. Zelgadiss, I mean, with his body. He covers up with clothing all the way to his eyes. He gets nervous when people look at him…and frustrated when he tries to be…physical. He won't…you know…we can't have kids…not until he's cured and…he's afraid of crushing me in his sleep with his, you know, heavy rocky body, and…" She glared suddenly, sharply, at the ground, her eyes moist. "…and sometimes something as simple as brushing my hand through his hair…well it cuts my fingers, on the wires, you know?"

Rezo swallowed. "I know."

"And he sees the blood and it…it makes him angry, and sad, and..and very very distant. And sometimes his cure…he puts it before…before anything, even…friendship…and he leaves me behind…a lot. I guess if I think about those things, I ought to really hate you."

Another long silence.

"It's all…too true. I somehow expected you to slap me or…throw me in a dungeon once you finally met me." Rezo forced a single, rueful chuckle. "I would do as much myself, after hearing…all that. And to think I once had the nerve to want to kill him for trying to kill me…I disgust myself--"

"I'd rather not," Amelia interrupted, matter-of-factly, with the mellowness of a preacher whose sermon is memorized by heart. Her demeanor changed as quickly as the sun after a momentary eclipse. "Cruel and unusual punishment does nothing to abate the original crime. It wouldn't be Just."

"…You're a sweet girl." Rezo caught himself choking a little.

"Well, mister Rezo, I certainly try!" Amelia pumped her fist. The bed bounced and Fibrizo, silent and sulking, had to cling to the bedspread to resist meeting the same fate as the spilled tea scones. "Daddy says it's my most endearing quality!"

"It shines through." Unable to contain his gratitude, Rezo reached for Amelia's face, and timidly his fingers studied her features. "Forgive me, it's the only way that I can know how someone…oh my…you really are a beautiful young woman. What a catch he's found. My Zelgadiss, the royal consort one day. Hah."

The skin of the girl's cheeks warmed under his touch.

"Oh dear," Rezo laughed. "I've gone and embarrassed you. Forgive me." He withdrew his hands.

"No, it's alright." Amelia beamed. "You're known for your philanthropy in Seyruun, mister Rezo. Really, all over Red Orb. I'm just honored to be complimented by a living saint, that's all. Anyway, I have a better way to exact your penance!" She said it so cheerfully.

Rezo blinked blindly. "Er, oh?"

"Yes! Like I was saying earlier: I want to hear a story of mister Zelgadiss's childhood from you, one a day! Because…there is so little I know about him, and yet he knows everything about me! About my Daddy's political achievements, and about my mother's….well, she died when I was a toddler…and about my sister Gracia…who actually was a very skillful golem maker, so I'm not even sure if she and mister Zelgadiss would get along, but anyway, she ran away when I was little…" Amelia's bright prattling began to slow. "And he knows about Alfred and Uncle Randy and…all of them leaving too…a lot of people have left me. I want to know about the person who leaves but…keeps coming back."

"Deal," Rezo pledged, without hesitation. "I could write a book about it. You'll have your daily Tales of the Boy Called Zelgadiss."

"What about me?" the chimera in question rumbled, striding into the room.

Fibrizo hissed and burrowed up against Rezo again. Amelia tittered conspiratorially. "Nothing," she sang.

Zelgadiss blinked in a manner spookily akin to Rezo. "Well," he said—also, with the same measured verbal pace, which only made Amelia, for some reason, giggle harder, perhaps with the blessed relief following a nervous confrontation. "…hey. Come on. That does little to assuage my worry."

"My boy," Rezo practically gushed. "Come in, please! Come in!" He patted the bedside. "Thank you for visiting me, I really never expected…"

"Actually I'm just here to say Phil's dropping by with your real guest," Zelgadiss hastily retorted. He looked more nervous than angry. Young. Almost…shy. "And your human Flagoon guy, Ash? Your uh vassal…butler…person? He's been trying to cook you chocolate pudding in the royal kitchens and it keeps coming out somehow as a pork roast. Leave it to a tree to have no clue how to make anything edible aside chloroplasts, I guess…" He shoved his hands in his pant pockets, trying very hard to look like an intellectual misanthrope.

"Ash is sure something else," Rezo agreed, wiggling his slippered feet.

Amelia, thinking this indicated Rezo's need to cover them with his blankets, shifted the covers to oblige. Fibrizo rushed to help.

Zelgadiss's eyes followed their hands. And then he smirked. "…Picked the ugliest you could find, right? Trying to see if anyone says anything? Heh. That's such an old joke, Rezo."

Amelia cocked her head. "How did you _know_, mister Zelgadiss?" she demanded.

Fibrizo looked inexplicably mutinous, even territorial. For he had found those slippers for Rezo.

And Rezo clapped his hands together in delight. For Zelgadiss _always_ knew. Zelgadiss _always_ understood his Gramps. "Yes!" the Red Priest hooted. "You _got_ it! _Nobody_ else did! Oh, marvelous, ha! That's my boy!"

Zelgadiss grumbled awkwardly and turned away, hands diving deeper into his pockets. He fell silent, as if his own moment of openness had betrayed him.

Fortunately fate chose that moment to intercede with a bubblier personality.

"Why, mister Rezo! You're in much higher spirits than when my men carried you into court!" Prince Philionel strode in, his heavy purple-lined white robes trailing behind him, the simple silver circlet on his head gleaming.

He walked arm in arm with a disgruntled, patch-cloaked man of middle age. "That's _good_!" he thundered. "For you see, as Destiny would decree it, my border police recently apprehended a band of brigands, and one of them, overhearing my conversation with my beloved daughter and her gargoyle-ian escort"—(and at this description Rezo winced and Zelgadiss glowered--" said he needed _you_ to heal him! _Here he is_!" Like a great loving bear—both snuggly and forceful—the bristly-bearded monarch clapped his unseemly partner on the back and shoved him toward Rezo's bed. "There you are, lad! Speak and the Red Priest, contrite of his sins and BURSTING with _righteous curative JUSTICE_, shall PROVIDE! I am certain of it!"

Despite the temporary loss of hearing from Philionel's happy roars, Rezo shifted from reminiscent old fart to professional priest of the white arts in a millisecond. He sat up straighter; Amelia plumed his pillows behind him as he queried, "Yes, young man? How may I help you?"

"You _ATONE_!" the bandit clumsily blurted, like someone who has been dying to reprimand an imposing figure for atrocities committed, but who loses nerve under just that figure's intimidating shadow.

Philionel looked disappointed. "I do SAY, young man!" he tsked.

Goosebumps lined Rezo's arms. But he held up a hand to quell protest. "Let him speak, please," he implored.

"ATONE!" the man repeated, like a broken record. The words of the wounded poured from his dirty lips and slightly yellowed teeth, rendering him a somehow noble victim: "AND FIX SAIRAAG! Our city fell TWICE to dark arts and painful illusions! I came back from my first looting only to watch that THING you created, that DEPRAVED CLONE with YOUR face, kill EVERYONE in the city that night! And I get arrested? ME? For stealing a few extra coins, I'M the villain, not the 'great' Aka Houshi Rezo, huh?! And then…then ANOTHER servant of Shabranigdo made it look as though the dead yet lived! _You irresponsible bastard_! I know what kind of a man you REALLY are! Poor Lady Sylphiel, poor New Sairaag, trying to fix this endless suffering, because of YOU!"

"That _wasn't_ Rezo the _second_ time," Zelgadiss curtly injected.

"That was ME the second time!" Fibrizo snapped, at the exact same moment, ears red.

Zelgadiss and Fibrizo gawked at each other. Then they turned away, brooding.

The bandit looked painfully confused. But it took him only a handful of seconds to regain his vindictive steam. "HA! Some kid can't fell a whole civilization! Shut up, ya BRAT! You, Rezo! I SAW you there, with that kid sitting with you, I saw you there with him and a purple-haired guy, and, and one of our workers, Ash! You just LEFT and never came back! And now you're living it up here in SEYRUUN?! NO! _YOU HEAL MY CITY NOW_!"

Rezo sighed weightily. "Listen," he began. "I will return to Sairaag the minute I'm well. You see how my hair has white streaks in it? That's because my pool capacity is depleted. I just need a few days to—"

PAIN.

Pain beyond comprehension.

It started systematically, right in the middle of Rezo's pupils. It shot back to his retinas, a feeling of expansive aching and shredding.

All of it, all of the pain, remained inside Rezo's eyes.

"Mister Rezo..?" Amelia asked, in her breathy soprano. He felt her hand on his shoulder, squeezing.

Shocked, winded by the magnitude of it, he reached up and clutched at his eyes and could not help but loudly groan.

It felt just like that day, so long ago, when his eyes had finally opened, and gleamed a bloody red, and shown him a brief dew seconds of the world.

Before Shabranigdo came ripping out of his body and devoured him. An agony that had been so exquisite that Rezo had welcomed death.

The memory of that now, he _certainly_ didn't welcome. But the more the bandit tiraded and indicted, the more agitated Rezo's heart rate, the more distraught his emotions, the greater that eye pain flared. His hands were claws digging at his eyeballs, almost ready to tear them out. All thoughts grew garbled, unclear. "Nnn…"

"That'll do." It was Zelgadiss who spoke, tacitly, coldly, as though analyzing data. "Leave off. Let him be. Look. He's in pain."

"Don't make him go," Rezo wheezed. "He has brought forth no false accusations."

"That may be," Philionel interjected in his amiable boom, "but Mister Rezo, you are in no fit condition to meet this man's needs today. Come, sir Bandit. We shall see to it that your charges are given due attention, when Rezo has recovered." He ushered the bandit, with the filthy haunted face and the scathing words, out of the chamber before protests could ensue. Bumbling though he was, Philionel was the kindest of souls.

"Three days," Zelgadiss spoke into yet another silence. "Your pool capacity should be back in three days. Then I'm taking you to Sairaag."

"…you?" Rezo whimpered, hunkered over, still clutching his eyes. "Why…?"

A shadow cast over him. A cold hard body joined him on the bed, perched on the edge next to him. Shoulder to shoulder. And Zelgadiss, physically closer to Rezo than he had been in years, said, "Because, if you really came back when I called you, then I'm the one responsible for whatever craziness you conduct from here on out."

Rezo mumbled something incoherent. He rocked slightly and the pain was devastating. "Nnnn…nnnn…"

"Easy," came his boy's baritone, clear and solid and composed. "Easy."

It was like a healing incantation, that single word from his great-grandson's mouth. Rezo stopped rocking, and quieted. The pain subsided as though chased away by that moment of softness from the Red Priest's kinsman. "Nnn."

"Okay?"

"…Okay. Mm, yes, I think. Okay."

Amelia watched intently; she got the notion that this sort of dynamic between Zelgadiss and Rezo was not new, but extended many years into the past, with many rehearsals. A part of Rezo had probably always been mercurial, and a part of Zelgadiss had probably always been staid, stable, and stoic. She understood now what Rezo had been saying before, about the interdependent harmony of opposite people. She almost felt nostalgic on Rezo and Zelgadiss's behalf.

"Okay." Zelgadiss stood. "I'm going to go talk to Prince Phil some more. Hey, Ame. Come on. He's okay now. It's probably just phantom pains from when Shabranigdo, ah…you know, fucked him up."

"You shouldn't swear, mister Zelgadiss." Amelia's hand had not left Rezo's shoulder, but now she gave it another squeeze and slid off the bed, following the chimera out.

Rezo was quiet for a long time. As if he were trying to decide whether or not to confess something to Fibrizo.

"I'm uh…still here," the Hellmaster mumbled, tugging on his sleeve.

So Rezo chose confession. "Sometimes they'd all just…_cling_to me. You know? To my legs and my robe hem. The people I healed, I mean. And they would get their tears and dirt and…drool and snot all over me, their sick-up and sometimes if they were old and senile, their bodily fluids too, their…their piss, I mean…because it was always a big…congested claustrophobic crowd, you know…and there was just one of me, and I couldn't see to avoid them all, and suddenly they were just _there,_ always, in every town and village it happened, even in the rural places sometimes…and I would just…I would _beg_ them in my mind to stop, not because of the weight or smell of them, but because of my own shame, because I didn't _have_ any other ways to heal them all…and it was like maybe when they got all that filth on me _they _were baptizing _me_, hah, not the reverse, hoh, I don't know, I've said these things before to other so-called 'holy men' who never left their damned cloisters to go meet the people they preached and…and I'm told my feelings sound insane, haha…but…but I would _try _though, you know, I would TRY to fix all the people, ALL of them…"

He laughed. It sounded a little frantic, even to Fibrizo.

"I would _really try_. I would fix and fix and _fix_ them, all down a _mile_-long line, hundreds, thousands a day, I'd mend _anything _that I could find wrong or broken. Until my hair drained white and people said there were wrinkles under my eyes and that I was going to faint, I looked so ashen. I'd go and go and _go_, and try to pretend I'd gotten to them all, but I always _knew_ I never did. I always knew _someone_ was lying somewhere dying because I hadn't done quite enough."

He ran his hands through his hair and gulped back bile.

"One time…one time there was this infant…this _stillborn infant_, and the mother actually brought it to me and thought I could resuscitate it. Oh, hell. The smell of baby powder, it was _much_ more sickening than the smell of vomit and urine because my God, I think she must have dressed it up nicely to come see me, she was that damned sure I could bring it back. And God, her crying, you _know_? When I said 'no, ma'am, I _can't_,' her _crying, _it was just… I don't know when I became God to them. I'm just a man. A man…blessed? Damned? With this ability to heal. I only cling to it like they cling to me because I _want to help_. To have existed. To not be just…some god damned cripple. Some nobody….some _nobody_. I really want to help."

"…Rezo is just a human," Fibrizo recited, almost to himself. He reached out and touched a vein on Rezo's pale forehead, a faint blue vein standing out in the Red Priest's emotional rush. He was fascinated. "But Rezo is a very nice human. Nicer than most humans, really. So he shouldn't be so ashamed." Then, shyly, his index finger traced the side of that tranquil marble visage.

Rezo quietly gasped. He'd not expected his pardon, his assurance of penance, from the Hellmaster. But there it was, simply stated. "Thank you for saying tha…ngh…" But there suddenly was that pain again, inside his eyes. "Ooh. My. Pardon me. It just…hurt a little, again. Curious."

Fibrizo nodded mutely, with an air of utter impotence. "Rezo shouldn't hurt anymore," he said.

"That's very…ngh…"

"I forgive you." Now Fibrizo glared at the ailing saint. He yanked harder on Rezo's sleeve. "Alright? Will that help? To say it in _his_ place, and…and outright? I forgive you. You have slippers and forgiveness now. Be better! _Now_!"

"It's not so simple," Rezo laughed, tremulously. "But thanks all the same. Fibrizo?"

"Yes?" The Hellmaster tried to make it sound haughty and grand. Unfortunately for him, it came out quite gentle. He cringed at himself.

"If…gods, I'm so filthy, I'm s-so weak…"

Fibrizo scowled. "No you're not. Why would you say that?"

"Because…! I'm trying to replace him with you…"

The Hellmaster's face fell.

"And...and if it's obvious to you, th-then…I…I'm so sorry…! But, you see…. Zelgadiss is the only real, true thing that I have ever had…a…a kinsman, a connection, a…a reason to live that didn't _need _eyesight…ngh…b-but, Fibrizo, I think I care about you now t-too, _you_, all b-by yourself, and so I just w-wanted to--"

"Quiet, Rezo. It's…alright." Fibrizo's voice was colorless: almost resigned. He mimicked Zelgadiss. Scooted up against Rezo's side, and pressed his small shoulder to the mage's. "It's alright."

Again, Rezo quieted.

What neither Red Priest nor Hellmaster knew was Zelgadiss, the craved forgiver, had returned.

Zelgadiss was standing in the doorway eavesdropping: listening to the entire exchange.

Stricken.

"I hate you, Rezo," he breathed.

And meant it.

And didn't mean it at all.


	13. Touch and Go

**Chapter 12: Touch and Go**

_(Author's note: Episode 10 of _Slayers Evolution-R_ has thrilled me in ways I can't describe. I am honored to have evidently captured Rezo and Zelgadiss's former relationship so accurately, and I am going to do my best to continue to do them justice. Thanks for reading and reviews and I hope you enjoy where this goes as it continues to converge with the series plot.)_

_*******************************************_

"_Sooner or later you're going to learn that there are consequences to being 'The Chosen One.'"~Ben Linus, the principle antagonist, in _Lost.

"_Remember the good times that we had?  
I let them slip away from us when things got bad  
How clearly I first saw you smilin' in the sun  
Wanna feel your warmth upon me, I wanna be the one  
__  
I'm so tired but I can't sleep  
Standin' on the edge of something much too deep  
It's funny how we feel so much but we cannot say a word  
We are screaming inside, but we can't be heard_

_I'm so afraid to love you, but more afraid to loose  
Clinging to a past that doesn't let me choose  
Once there was a darkness, deep and endless night  
You gave me everything you had, oh you gave me light  
_  
_And I will remember you  
Will you remember me?  
Don't let your life pass you by  
Weep not for the memories  
Weep not for the memories"_

_~Sarah McLachlan_

**~*One month before Zelgadiss confronts the Hellmaster's Jar.*~ **

Zelgadiss stood at the doorway to Rezo's guest bedroom in Seyruun, seething. Hating, not hating, hating, not hating…

Thoughts of the past pulled him far, far from his present rage. Or, perhaps, reminded him why he had such rage in the first place…

It was touch that sustained Rezo's soul. For many, many years, before he finally broke.

When Rezo went among the masses to heal them, he could not see their faces. Could not partake of their joy, their salvation, their relief. Their clumsy jovial embraces, their voices ragged and strained with holding back tears of rapture, their attempts not to act too disgracefully ecstatic and excited in the middle of the village square or barn or castle or market or country road once their cure had come: shaky smiling queries of "so, darling, what's for dinner, now that my stomach is cured?" and "maybe now I can learn to paint like you, mama, now that I can see?" and their exclamations like "I'm going to go on that pilgrimage I always planned, since I can walk now!"

Rezo gave and gave of himself, and yet never learned, never knew, what it was to be a single one of these people and their rejoicing, their little clusters and pockets of the daily miraculous, even though he himself was the cause of those miracles.

It was a cruel paradox: Rezo was lonely to his god-damned core. He stood forever at the outside, at the margins, of the very healing events that rendered him famous.

Except in one way. He could touch their faces. And feel their expressions as the beautiful metamorphosis from laden to released, burdened to rescued, sick to saved transpired. He could _feel _their liberation birthing on their eyebrows, their eyes, the bridge of their noses, their mouths, the heat in their cheeks. He could _feel_ it, and _really know it_, this thing called CURE, by _touch_.

It was a funny thing, touch. A brave but vulnerable gesture. Touch was predicated by the presumption of breeching some unspoken personal space. Rezo, who was nothing if not polite, found it a struggle to buoy up the courage and ask permission—even after having rescued his patients with astonishing feats of skill and mercy. Over half the time, he didn't even ask. And three-fourths of the time that he did, the person saved would balk, turn away, flinch and nervously laugh, dodge, or even rush off, too awkward and unsure of how to treat this handicapped man who simultaneously had the awesome power to fix them. And Rezo would be humiliated at himself.

Still, as often as he could, Rezo asked to touch those faces. It was far better than the thanks that he craved and rarely received.

When Zelgadiss was a little boy—even well into his teen years—he intuitively understood this. Zelgadiss, and _only_ Zelgadiss. Gramps was a cuddly, physical guy, and always had been, but it was more than that.

To touch was Rezo's lifeline to the rest of the human race.

Zelgadiss learned of Rezo's need to touch others from watching Gramps heal and heal and heal some more, either in itinerancy or at the front door of one of his many mansions. While Rodimus, Zolf, Dilgear, Eris, and Noonsa handed out the clean bread and water that they'd raided from bandits to orphans, Rezo cured everything from a pet kitten's broken rib to foot sores to blindness, deafness, cancerous tumors, and deathbed dysentery.

And if a child, or adult, whose malady he'd erased seemed particularly grateful or gregarious, Rezo dared to ask the question: "May I?" And Rezo dared to reach out his hand and pet the faces of his patients. Once in a while they would let him, beaming. And Rezo would beam too, for the rest of the day and through the evening. Other times they would pull away and run off, and Rezo would brood, snap, sulk in his study, go to bed early, or even hide in his laboratory and scream and throw things and weep himself into exhausted slumber. All of it audible through the mansion's thin walls, while Eris covered her face and quaked, and Dilgear shifted weight uncomfortably, and Rodimus or Zolf, faces strained and haunted, did their best to sound casual while inviting Zelgadiss into a farther room to play chess or cards or sword practice with them until bedtime.

All beginning with some healed stranger refusing to let Rezo touch—and be part of—the living.

Once or twice, after _It_ happened—that confusing, innocence-smothering _It_, when Rezo made his flesh into rock—Zelgadiss tired of hearing those things through the mansion walls. He spied on Rezo's lab tantrums, both horrified and fascinated.

Because Gramps was always so gentle out in the light of day, but in the red tint of his private hell, with his strange and frightening tubes and globular chambers filled with weird creatures and chemical baths, Gramps became another man entirely: a violent, desperate, wounded beast, sicker than any of his patients, crawling around panting like a dehydrated dog bleeding in the broken glass and the murky red glow of his lab, screaming for mercy and companions and sight. Screaming, screaming himself hoarse. Like someone invisible and terribly strong was holding him down from behind and raping him and raping him and raping him. At the same time, utterly alone.

And this had been going on through the mansion walls, muffled, for as long as Zelgadiss could remember.

Had it all been a sham? Every smile, every hug, every laughing banter and stimulating intellectual debate with Gramps? Had his whole childhood been nothing but a tatty lie, because this secret, tormented, perverse Gramps existed, too?

The sight, the knowledge, of this, made Zelgadiss lose what last vestiges of childhood he'd had after _It _had happened. To see the man who had raised and so dearly loved him, who calmly, authoritatively quoted the sages at the dinner table and taught Zelgadiss every skill he possessed, who held Zelgadiss's hair back when he threw up, who kissed his forehead before every night's sleep and never once had a harsh word or gesture toward him…reduced to a drooling shrieking mongrel on the floor of a futile test tube littered grave…was just too damned much for a fifteen-year-old, even a resilient and resourceful fifteen-year-old, to take. Everything was all wrong now.

Zelgadiss cried himself to sleep those nights, too, and grew up far too fast to compensate. And Rezo, the mad screaming crawling violated violent Rezo, became a part of his nightmares, while "Gramps" vaporized, died, ceased to exist.

_And yet_….

Before _It_ happened, Zelgadiss did his best to let Rezo touch his face. To keep these unknowable inner demons of Rezo's at bay. To save Rezo as Rezo saved so many others.

Until the very day that Rezo turned Zelgadiss into a chimera, Zelgadiss never dodged Rezo's touch. Rezo memorized his boy's face, every line, every fine bone, every smoothness, mole, and blemish, and Zelgadiss memorized Rezo's hand—every warm, soft crease. Instead of exchanging happy, angry, sad glances, they exchanged touches of a like character. It was their intimate, familial mode of communication.

And so Zelgadiss's face became Rezo's much-cherished anchor, his haven-point, his harbor, in an otherwise continual state of adrift and darkness. His hope itself.

But then there was _It._ The betrayal. The day that Rezo stormed up unprovoked behind Zelgadiss, leering frantically, insanely, and all went red as arachnid-like tentacles shot out from his red robes and encoiled Zelgadiss, and turned him into the worst kind of aberration. _It_.

Zelgadiss flinched that very day, for the first time, when Rezo touched his face.

Zelgadiss had succumbed to that time-immemorial ritual of the pubescent boy who gets shy and pigeon-toed and squawky when his parental figures publicly display affection. Rezo had been depressed that day and had confessed his discouragement to his boy, on a that lovely brilliant sprint afternoon. Such ironic, mocking weather, so unreflexive of what went on inside. Zelgadiss had praised Rezo, had told him to stop second-guessing the efficacy of his miraculous healings, had reassured him that a cure to his blindness would come, because no one deserved happiness more. Rezo had been so touched, and Rezo had thanked him in a choked voice, and Rezo had reached out to touch his face.

And Zelgadiss had flushed scarlet and dodged. "It's all good," he'd clumsily laughed, but proud, beaming, because Gramps was grateful for him, because Gramps was proud of him. And Zelgadiss slid down the grassy knoll in the back of Rezo's mansion, and brayed a plucky "Ill be home for dinner," and rushed off with Rodimus and Zolf to just be a normal boy. And Rezo's hand hung in the air. Adrift again. Rezo turned away sharply, to hide the wrath on his face.

Perhaps it was some kind of awful portent.

Perhaps Shabranigdo, awakening in Rezo more and more, became angry and restless inside Rezo's soul, when Rezo reached out and touched the person he loved and trusted most. Maybe Shabranigdo laughed and laughed like the malicious bastard that he was when Rezo reached out to Zelgadiss in faith, and found his hand brushed away.

Yes. Shabranigdo probably laughed his god-damned ass off, and Rezo probably heard it, and despaired, and finally sank too low to ever emerge again. And did _It_ to Zelgadiss, who had never meant to do anything but be a normal boy who trusted his father figure with his life.

Zelgadiss had to have been Shabranigdo's most formidable obstacle in the path to being reborn from Rezo's body.

Barely three hours passed, after all, before Zelgadiss—who loved his risky adventures and his masterminded improvisations out of them—returned from another bandit raiding, and Rezo, manic and depraved and not at all himself, did _It_ to him.

And right now, standing outside Rezo's door in Seyruun, that was all that mattered to Zelgadiss. Not the duration of Rezo's agonizing struggle against Shabranigdo's control, almost solely for Zelgadiss's sake. No, only the great transgression, only _It_: that moment which seemed to nullify every happiness between them that had precededIt_. It, It, It. _Obsessively.

"Yes," he concluded, pushing aside, drowning, smothering, _so much_ that he once felt, that he _still_ felt, that had nothing—_nothing_!—to do with hate. But _fuck_ all that, because feeling one emotion at a time was easier—was so much less frightening. "Yes, I hate you." And he stepped into the room.

Hellmaster Fibrizo was cradling Rezo's head, which was bowed between his knees, while new torrents of pain seized the Red Priest's eyes. He looked up with a dangerous emerald glitter in his own eyes. "_What_?" the tiny Lord of Death snapped.

That was when the bizarre heckling over "ownership" of Rezo the Red Priest, Wise Man of the Age, began.

"How goes it, 'replacement'?" Zelgadiss growled back. "_Jack off_. I'm talking to him alone." He drew his broadsword and pointed it at Rezo's hunkered-over head.

Fibrizo feigned consideration for a moment, sarcastically. "No," he finally sneered.

"Why not?" Zelgadiss rested his hands, sword drawn and all, on his hips.

"He has a _heartbeat_," the Hellmaster explained condescendingly, imperiously, as if the chimera were the stupidest creature on Red Orb. "He has a heartbeat and I like it. It's slow and calm. It's strong. Rezo is kind to me and Rezo trusts me. He's _mine_. And I say no."

"Since when do demons give a flinging shit about kindness and trust? I told you to _scram_, Squirt. He's _not_ yours. He's more 'mine' if anything. He's _my_ blood relative and I know things about him, about what makes him tick and break, than you ever will. And I intend to figure out if any of that has changed, and what the seven hells he's up to now. So get. _Out_."

"Never." Swirls of golden orbs materialized around Fibrizo's inky little head. He found Zelgadiss's orb and readied to pinch it, as he had in the ghostly roots of Flagoon.

And that was when Rezo came alive.

"_Don't you dare_," he said, and though he didn't shout, or even move from his crouch, there was nothing in the world more terrifying than his voice right that moment—because it was the latent voice of a parent protecting his child.

Fibrizo looked like he was going to ask how Rezo even knew what transpired, but he didn't. He obeyed at once, letting the golden bauble that was Zelgadiss's soul go. Resentfully he scooted to the end of the bed, back to both Greywers.

Zelgadiss's stony face betrayed no gratitude. There was courage in his posture. And yet he refused to breech the distance, about five or so feet, between himself and his great-grandfather. "So, Rezo," he commanded. "Give it up. Why are you really back?"

"Because," Rezo's voice was a pitiful groan as he clutched at his eye sockets. "Because Fibrizo brought me back to find his jar. And unfortunately, I can't remember a thing about it. My memory comes back in waves and spurts. In pieces. I'm useless, in short. I'm back for a purpose but haven't any way to serve it. I guess that makes me some kind of…vagabond or something."

Fibrizo shrugged, as though somehow he'd stopped caring anyway.

"Don't wait for me to cry on your behalf," Zelgadiss snarled, with a bit more force than was necessary. "But whatever you want to claim, my offer stands. You're a depraved lunatic, but you're MY responsibility, and so I'll escort you to Sairaag. Then I intend to take Amelia and go looking for that same jar, use it to get my body back, and destroy it. Fair warning to you." He gave Fibrizo a surly nod.

"Don't." Rezo looked up blindly, his fawnlike, unsettlingly large and sorrowful brown eyes roving the room. "Don't go. I have other uses. I can atone. To you, to Sairaag. To anyone else I've hurt. It'll be the only thing I do all day, everyday. I…I even…I can try to fix you. Don't go looking for the jar. You've found me instead. _Please_."

Zelgadiss leered angrily. "And why _not_, Rezo? What are you hiding this time?" He sheathed his sword.

"I'm not hiding anything. All I have keeping me living is…I wouldn't ask for it before, but now…what keeps me going is…"

"Don't string me along, old man. Out with it."

Rezo blurted it unthinkingly: "I have the earnest hope that you will forgive me."

Something went off inside Zelgadiss in that instant. A flare. A hot red coal of fury, igniting, unquenchable. And he was running at Rezo with hands outstretched, as blind as his great-grandfather had ever been.

Even Fibrizo yelped and ducked.

"FORGIVE YOU?" And Zelgadiss was screaming. And Zelgadiss was panting. And Zelgadiss was biting his lip until it bled, and shaking Rezo, shaking him over and over, shaking him hard, making his teeth rattle, making the collar of his robes rip. And Zelgadiss was being Rezo himself, in his lab, on the floor, bleeding and raging and devoid of all hope. Untouched and adrift. "FORGIVE YOU? WHY should I EVER forgive YOU? YOU HURT ME! _YOU HURT ME_!" And Zelgadiss was crying. Crying, crying. And laughing a little too, at the hateful irony of the whole damned thing. "You HELPED _THEM_, you helped ALL OF THEM, FUCKING GOD-DAMNED _STRANGERS_, Rezo! You the HEALER! THE FAMOUS GOD-DAMNED HEALER! Day IN, day OUT, strangers, strangers, ALL KINDS OF STRANGERS! _I'M THE ONLY ONE YOU EVER HURT_!" His hand cupped Rezo's chin, _squeezed_, easily straining all the bones in Rezo's jaw. "I don't want to FORGIVE you, you BASTARD! _I WANT to HATE you!_"

Rezo sniveled and cringed, but after a moment his head hung there helplessly in his kinsman's grasp and he went slack. His face died, expression devoid. He let Zelgadiss rage: even welcomed it, the beating, the punishment, the reckoning, for the sick and premeditated assault he had made on his boy's innocence and safety and happiness.

He knew he deserved it.

Fibrizo watched in the same detached, morbid fascination that Zelgadiss had displayed so many years past, watching Rezo in his lab. His little jaw hung ajar.

Zelgadiss let out a wordless and mangled shriek, because he couldn't do it. Even now, he couldn't kill Rezo. He just couldn't. He let go of Rezo's face, and punched the tier of Rezo's guest bed, and splintered it. He hated himself and Rezo and loved Rezo and felt all those confusing things torrenting back inside. He loathed himself for wanting something from Rezo wholly other than penance or revenge.

And then his head dropped…

Onto Rezo's shoulder.

Rezo froze.

Fibrizo froze.

Zelgadiss fell mute and still, and continued to quietly, bitterly weep.

The wires that had become Zelgadiss's hair dug into Rezo's shoulder and neck, causing him to bleed. Rezo welcomed the scratches. He adored them.

Still Zelgadiss didn't move.

Rezo waited.

Nothing.

Slowly…so slowly…Rezo let his cheek drop against the side of Zelgadiss's head.

More scratches, and he adored them too.

An eternity, and yet only a minute or two, passed. Zelgadiss lifted his head. Rezo caught Zelgadiss's face in his hands. Devastation dawned on his own face.

"Yeah," Zelgadiss mumbled thickly. "Yeah. See me, old man. See me."

See what you did. See what you once had. See what I wish I could still give you. All of this hung in the air unspoken, following Zelgadiss's words.

Rezo felt his boy's face, still his anchor, however ravaged, lovingly. He caressed every pebbly, blemished inch of it. "That's my boy," he breathed. "Still my boy. Always. I know his face by heart. Nothing could disguise it…my boy."

Zelgadiss's expression made it blatant that he hadn't expected that kind of response. More begging, more empty apologies, even haughty retaliations or demeaning, disdainful pontifications on the fact that Zelgadiss should be "grateful" for his "strength" which Rezo had granted. Not a statement of loving pride, and humble possession. Nothing so raw and candid, and…normal.

He remembered letting Rezo touch his face all the time. All the bloody time.

And that happy memory hurt Zelgadiss more than anything else in the universe. That was the double-edged sword of loving someone so much.

Rezo shook violently. His now streaming, bloodshot brown eyes were aching and he didn't want to let go of his anchor. He felt he'd never get a chance to touch it, to know it, again.

Zelgadiss woke up to the present again. He pried Rezo's hands from his face and forced them into his lap. "Hey," he muttered. "Come on. Easy. Easy. Just…enough now. From both of us. Enough. Later, okay? Okay?"

Rezo nodded, but continued to tremble.

Zelgadiss sighed. "Hey come on, Gramps. Easy."

_Gramps_.

Rezo covered his face and wept some more. The kind of sobbing that feels awful and uncontrollable and seems to crush your ribcage, it's so wracking. He rocked himself and quietly gasped and bawled.

Zelgadiss looked and felt helpless. That trick, the chanting of "easy, easy, okay?" with a gentle but firm touch, had always worked to quiet Rezo before. But even that failed now.

Fibrizo crawled closer to Rezo and tried to touch his rocking form, terrified. He turned the most contemptuous scowl in the universe on Zelgadiss. "See what you_ did_?" he hissed, accusing and merciless, because he wasn't equipped to understand Zelgadiss's demons.

Amelia walked into the room then. Her face was suspiciously blotchy and wet as well. Behind her was Ash, who looked more worried than anything. She smiled so sorrowfully at Zelgadiss, and squeezed his shoulder. "_Sleeping_," she firmly recited, pointing her finger at Rezo.

Under Amelia's formidable capacity for white magic, Rezo drifted off at once.

Ash moved forward, prying Zelgadiss's hands from Rezo's. The chimera flushed; he hadn't realized how strongly he'd been gripping Rezo's hands and jaw, which were already visibly bruising. "It's alright," Flagoon's spirit warmly sighed, patting Zelgadiss's cheek. "It will all be alright." And then he took Rezo's slack form and laid him across the bed.

Zelgadiss hastened to his feet and fled the room. He didn't get far, though. Fibrizo teleported into the hallways of the Seyruun palace, still glaring green infernos and jade daggers at him.

"You," the formidable mazoku barked. "I have a bet to make with you."

Zelgadiss felt like perfecting the art of ripping new assholes right that moment, but then he reminded himself that Fibrizo was the most powerful demon shy of Shabranigdo himself, and the act would be a bit idiotic. He wiped his eyes mutinously. "Oh really? About?"

"About my Rezo."

"He's NOT. YOURS."

"Well YOU don't deserve to own him, stalactite boy," Fibrizo shot back. "One shouldn't own a pet that one abuses."

"He's a PERSON, imbecile. NOT a PET. Now what IS it you WANT?"

"I think I can make him happier than you can."

"Then you weren't around the past twenty years, you little sicko. You don't have a CLUE what I'm capable of doing for…some people."

"Whatever." Fibrizo waved Zelgadiss's stormy ruminations off with a flick of his scrawny wrist. "Here's the bet. He likes it when you call him 'Gramps.' Yeah. That was 'happy crying.' Humans do that. It's weird but they do. Xelloss and the others that go spend time with humans a lot say it's called 'happy crying.'"

"_And_?" Zelgadiss cracked his knuckles.

"_And_ if you can call him 'Gramps' until I say to stop, I'll let you get a crack at my jar before I do. I'll give you a head-start. You and that bitch Lina Inverse, and Justice Girl and Brainless Blond. All of you. If you don't call him Gramps till I say to stop, I get to go for my jar first. Either way," he added ominously, "whatever Xelloss does in Zelas's service with regards to my jar, and that Zuuma guy, and that Ozer girl, and Taforashia and all, is beyond my jurisdiction. But other than that, the offer stands."

Zelgadiss's eyes widened. "…you're not serious…"

"Oh yes. I'm always serious."

"…Why are you doing this? For him? Why do you even care? I thought demons weren't even allowed to care about …uh…non-demons. Are you actually disobeying Shabranigdo?"

A flash of unmitigated terror crossed Fibrizo's face, and then it was gone. "N-no," he stammered. "That is…I don't know. Just tell me if you'll accept the bet or not."

"Yes," Zelgadiss snapped. "I accept your offer. I'll call Rezo 'Gramps.' Until you say I can stop. And the jar is mine to take a crack at first."

"Deal," Fibrizo chimed, offering his hand.

Zelgadiss took it, and then he stalked on down the hall, not looking back. Amelia was at his heels, as usual, and soon learned of the nature of his transaction with the Hellmaster.

*****************************************************

The trip to Sairaag, via a collective Ray Wing spell, carried with it a smothering air. It was uneventful but seethingly claustrophobic. No one spoke. No one made eye contact. No one touched.

Rezo lingered at the tail of the flying party, and he brokenly did as he was told. His eyes hurt at increasingly erratic intervals, and he tried not to betray the fact to anyone in the party. He tried not to be even more burdensome than he already was, for merely existing. Most of all, he focused his energies into steering clear of Zelgadiss, of allowing him his sacred personal space—particularly after the chimera's cathartic outburst three days past.

Ash, who seemed equally subdued, procured two rooms at the least dilapidated New Sairaag inn: a large suite for Rezo, Zelgadiss, Fibrizo, and himself, and a single room for Amelia.

Amelia murmured something about this along the lines of "not liking it," her blushing gaze straying frequently to Zelgadiss, But then she added that it was probably "most just in any event."

Zelgadiss tried not to flush in response. He wasn't particularly successful.

Rezo and Zelgadiss had their first forced co-ed moment the next morning, at breakfast.

"You still talk in your sleep," Zelgadiss mumbled around a large bowl of oatmeal. "It used to drive me crazy when you gave me bedtime stories and fell asleep at the book and started…spewing nonsense. Old coot."

Rezo jolted a little. He rubbed at the creases under his eyes as covertly as he could.

"Still hurting?" Zelgadiss queried, and, catching a sharp look from Fibrizo, who was sitting at the window seat, he added, "uh…Gramps?"

_Gramps.  
_

It was like striking a button: Rezo immediately grinned, like someone had saved his soul.

Fibrizo gave a satisfied and regal nod, and returned to lazily gazing out the window. Ash, making everyone's beds, smiled to himself and began to whistle. Fibrizo glared at Ash and stopped up his ears with his fingers.

Zelgadiss tried not to feel some kind of damnable guilt, or worse, pleasure that he had that much power over his kinsman's emotional states, as Rezo cooed, "Oh, pshaw, it's nothing. Just a bit of fatigue-pain is all. Anyway. You still eat oatmeal for breakfast…with curry powder in it. Egh."

"I do. So?"

"Well it's rather gross." The normalcy of the moment was boggling Rezo's mind, but he kept talking, to see where it would go. Blissfully unaware of Zelgadiss and Fibrizo's shady bet.

"Whatever. You used to say curry was a health-conducive spice and that it was in over half the remedies invented by the sages of old."

"Touché. But still. In _oatmeal_…?"

"Alright, old fart, how about _this_: Last night around four in the morning you were babbling on about sardine heads and gods, and something about punching, and visiting friends to repay debts. Oh, and flamingoes in butterfly-shaped bikinis."

Rezo presented a genteel blush. "Oh dear."

"Yeah, oh dear is shitting _right._"

"Mister Zel-GA-diss," Amelia chided, swooping in with a tray of some odd looking beverage to go with the oatmeal and eggs. It was murky and sort of peach-puce hued. Like vomit.

Zelgadiss went clammy. "Uh. Thanks, Ame."

Rezo cocked his head. "Another special dish?"

"Oh yes," Amelia sang. "Daddy uses it for stamina when traveling. So I made some for Mr. Zelgadiss, to boost his immune system. Just one glass though, Mr. Rezo. Sorry."

"That's quite alright," Rezo assured her, sensing Zelgadiss's vast displeasure with the mixture.

Amelia trotted off, humming to herself.

A leery pause.

"Alright," Rezo muttered to his great-grandson. "Er. What _is_ that stuff, if you don't mind my asking? It smells…fascinating…"

"It's mango tomato juice. She thought it'd go well with my oatmeal."

"…Mango tomato juice? But you like coffee…"

"I _know_ that. But Amelia made it. For _me_." Zelgadiss sipped. "_Ugh_, oh shits. It's hideous."

Rezo shrugged. "Then don't drink it."

"But she'll be crushed. I have to….egh..." He smacked his lips.

Rezo squared his jaw. "Very well." And then he did something ludicrous.

He seized the glass, chugged every last gulp, and, pinch-faced, placed it back down in front of Zelgadiss. "You drank it _now_." His eyes watered.

For a moment Zelgadiss was too horrified to speak. Then, in genuine, astounded admiration, he said, "_Damn. _I think maybe someone should canonize you now."

Rezo smiled feebly. "Anything for you," he quipped, followed by a very sentimental, and loud…belch. "Oh dear…"

Zelgadiss clucked once, and nodded. "Good one."

_Was that a joke_? Rezo was desperate to know if he'd imagined it, or if they'd just had a truly civil moment.

Zelgadiss confirmed the civility when he ventured, "So…the other day. I'm not…usually like that."

"I know," Rezo murmured. "Please don't apologize."

"I wasn't going to," Zelgadiss grumbled.

He was lying.

Rezo knew that, too. "What about it, then, my boy?"

"I'd…like to talk. Again. Some more. About…things. And this time I won't try to shake your brains out. But there are things I really need to know."

Rezo nodded. He stifled another belch. "Pardon me." He slid a hand across his stomach, casting a quick Recovery.

Zelgadiss barked a sharp, short laugh, unable to stop himself. "I don't think I've ever heard you do that…HAH…are you going to be okay?" he chuckled.

"Oh yes," Rezo fairly gushed. "I think so. Just a little…mango-tomato gas…and that won't get in the way of the good things coming to pass of late…"

"Heh, coming to 'pass,' huh?…heh!"

"Oh, don't be a preteen. You've always been too high-brow for that, my boy."

"Yeah yeah. But your eyes…"

"Zelgadiss, Shabranigdo isn't in me anymore. Not _this_ part of me anyway."

"Ah. Now." Zelgadiss leaned forward at the table. "That's what I was talking about. What do you mean, 'this part of me?'"

"Ah, drat," Rezo hiccupped, and laughed. "I forgot how smart you are. Well…I guess there's no getting around discussing this."

"…Always was the case. More than one 'you,' eh? I met the part I didn't know that day. The day when…"

Rezo's heart constricted. "I was…sick. I was sick, Zelgadiss. Then. Not anymore. I know it must have been frightening. You probably felt at times that you were raising me, rather than the reverse. It was foolish to think you didn't eavesdrop on my tantrums in the laboratory."

"I oughtta be trying to concoct an elaborate revenge scheme against you, old man," the chimera grumbled. "And not for this body, but for babysitting you for nearly two decades. Well, or at least after I was like. Five. I ought to try and get you back."

Rezo recognized the sore attempt at humor in that remark. "Oh yeah?" He tried for a gentle quip in response. A sign of acceptance. "Well. When you were five, as you say, you caught a stomach flu and toddled over to me at the middle of a Sorcerer's Guild summit, and hugged onto me, and threw up all over me in front of everyone."

"…so?!"

"So there's no vengeance much worse than that. I think you 'got' me."

Zelgadiss flushed. "…Okay, touché, right back at you."

Rezo chuckled. "My boy, that was a joke. Even though it actually happened."

"God, you and your wacky sense of humor."

"I know, I know. Sorry. Mm. It was pretty gross. But I cleaned you up. Er, I cleaned us up, that is. And we were fine."

"…Fine, huh?"

"Yes, Zelgadiss. Our history has been retold in a way fit for tabloids. But really? More often than not, you and I were just fine. I could reminisce on the good things for hours. Remember when you saw the stars for me and we plotted whole maps together? Hm?"

Brusquely: "Of course I do. What does that have to do with…?"

"And remember when you shot the neighbor's pet kinkajou with one of those guns I was testing, thank heavens I was able to save the poor thing, and you made me bribe you with a whole day at the biggest library on the continent to never do it again?"

"…that was a damn big library. Some great books."

" Yes! And when you were nine and decided to start horseback riding ahead of my traveling party and announce in the village square that I was coming, and I said you shouldn't dismount so fast, but you didn't listen, hmph, heh, haha, so you jumped off in Zephilia one day and ripped your pants right up the wazoo…"

"Don't say 'wazoo,' it's a stupid word. Say 'butt,' for gods' sakes."

"Mm, and you ran up to me and pushed your _butt_ up against my side and _completely _startled me, haha, and you hissed at me '_graaamps_,' hahaha, 'I ripped my pants, sew them up before someone _sees_!' But then when I bent over to do it, you got nervous and said '_wait do blind men sew well? Don't poke my ass'_! Haha_haha_…Well you know those Zephilians, half of them drunk on their famous wine, but you were still _mortified_. You probably thought you were in grave danger of another hole in the--"

"O-kayyy, enough, I re-MEM-ber…" The hue of the chimera's ordinarily gray-blue cheeks was a color that made Rezo's crimson robes look drab.

Rezo's chortling died down. "Oh dear, I'm sorry. Zelgadiss…my point is, I could have done so much better by you, and still…the good things about you and me…are what keep me going, even now."

"Glad your selective amnesia serves you well." Zelgadiss was merciless because he finally felt like he had the power between them, the upper hand. At the same time he was so desperate somehow, scrabbling for something from Rezo that he couldn't even name. For more good memories, even as he brushed them coldly aside. "Come on, out with it."

"Out with what?" Rezo's heart was already sinking like molten lead.

" You knew I'd be of use to you, yeah? Because mages are more than ordinary sorcerers. They have prescience. They can foresee."

"I do have a bit of clairvoyance, Zelgadiss." The pain was thick in Rezo's voice. "And I can see why you'd believe self-benefit was the only reason why I wanted us to be close. But …Shabranigdo out of the equation…I wanted a bond between us because you are my great-grandson and I wanted your love. As much as you had mine."

"_Had_?" It was the quietest of questions. Almost inaudible.

"Have," Rezo corrected at once. "Have. And always will. Even if it's never… reciprocated."

"Well," growled bitterly, shakily, as though by an animal in its death throes, "you really _are_ a _goddamn saint_." A feral thing unwilling to submit.

"No. I'm not. And never was. I drink tomato mango juice for my boy. But I'm not God."

"Glad you noticed."

"I did…I did. Zelgadiss…"

"What?" the chimera snapped, youthful in his erratic shifts of patience and impatience. But more than that—a hurt thing becoming impatient with being shown an exhibit of the instrument that had injured it. Zelgadiss wanted out. Away. Away from Rezo. So that he could pretend not to be hurt and afraid, essentially, as the roots of his independence, machismo, and strength. He looked away from Rezo. Anywhere but at Rezo.

Rezo knew. "…Don't be me. There are more important things in life than finding your cure. What's more, you can be happy _before_ you find it. _Don't be me_…don't go to _any_ lengths just to…Look just…_don't_ go to Vezendi. Don't go looking for that Hellmaster's Jar. I'm afraid of what you'll find and what it will do to you. I'm …afraid of that part of me."

Fibrizo turned around at the sound of his title, wide-eyed. "Eh?"

"So," Zelgadiss breathed. "That's what you meant back at the beach. When we first…when you said 'I found you before HE did.' By 'he'…you meant _yourself_. You meant that piece of your soul that's stuck in that pot. Then it's _true_." His voice was so colorless. Faint, and with distant but building feeling, like rumination, like an antique salt-paper print in a warm wash of brown hues. Zelgadiss's resolve was growing and shifting directions.

The sepia-toned quality of his kinsman's voice terrified Rezo. Something was brewing inside Zelgadiss and Rezo feared it would become unstoppable swiftly if he didn't intercede. "Yes. Yes, a _part_ of my soul really _is_ in that jar, really is what keeps Taforashia asleep, and seems to have arrested all of _my_ memories of being in Taforashia. Going there would be useless, without starting my research for operating the Hellmaster's Jar from scratch, or confronting that damnable thing and whatever is inside of it by _myself_…oh…I just…I never should have—"

"Now _there's_ that familiar line," Zelgadiss growled, with an angry sneer.

"Oh please…please not yet…don't act just yet. I know, we're so alike that way, I know how you'll get. Don't go off alone, Zelgadiss, on some suicide mission."

"We're _not _alike. Because I'm not some irresponsible self-absorbed prick like _you_. Who thinks he can get away with _murder_ because he cured a few cases of chicken pox!"

"…Zelgadiss, that…smarts …"

"GOOD. Good, I hope it DOES. They say empathy's the first step to reform, right?! Don't the 'great sages of old' say that, Wise Man?!" Zelgadiss spoke in staccato verbal assaults, like a popping electrical socket, not loud but sizzling, sharp, charged. The fury was building. "Well, then, if you're _so_ fucking ready to 'repent your sins,' I hope the AGONY helps you RIGHT OUT."

"You've lifted me too high and buried me too low. I'm neither as good nor as evil as you want to believe…come to the _middle_, Zelgadiss, that's where most of us are. Please …don't make ME the reason why you're doing these things. I'm not worth it."

Zelgadiss dodged that remark altogether, with a new line of inquiry. "Rezo, who is Ozer? Huh? That wooden chick with your name spelled backwards? That _weird_ woman who acts like she knows you _really_ well? She's the one who summoned me, summoned Lina and the rest of us, to Vezendi, she and that bastard Zuuma both said it, 'come to Vezendi.' Now, damn it, Rezo, I _know_ who and _what_ Zuuma is, but who is SHE?"

Rezo squeezed his eyes more tightly shut. He clenched his hands in his lap. "I can't tell you that yet…_I_ don't even fully remember…"

"She your lover or something? Sick, a wooden doll. Guess when Eris croaked you replaced her without a backward glance."

Rezo's face drained of what little color it had left. "When Eris…_what_?"

Zelgadiss hesitated at last. "Oh. You didn't…"

"No…no…I didn't know…I left her back at…and she…" Rezo's hands cupped his mouth. He had never thought to imagine…the woman that had adored him…

…husky voice, determined efficiency, gentle hands….that was Eris to Rezo.

He'd never loved her as ardently as she had loved him, and yet…to have abandoned her and never have a chance to apologize…

_No_.

"Your clone killed her," Zelgadiss coldly reported. And the worst part of him enjoyed saying it, just the tiniest bit. "That crazy fucker that you tortured into even crueler insanity. Yeah, _him_. _Your_ creation. He killed her. A long time ago. After he blew up Sairaag, which we're going to fix. Why don't you ever clean up your messes…Gramps?"

_NO…!_

Rezo retched. The disgusting juice concoction, the evidence of his everyday loving act for his great-grandson, came up, and splattered all over the inn floor, and it made the remnants of his Zanaffar gut-wound ache.

Zelgadiss balked. He looked, instantly, shame-faced. "I…uh. Guess the mango tomato juice did you in, after all." It was such a pathetic joke, and there was an apology hidden in it. "Trying to get me back for getting you back, huh? Woah. Easy."

Rezo stood so quickly that one of his knees banged the table and upset its contents. He mumbled an apology and stumbled into the bathroom.

Fibrizo shot to his feet and followed. But Rezo locked him—and the world—out. The Hellmaster turned those vengeful jade eyes on Zelgadiss again. "Remember our bet," he snarled. "I thought I was the demon, you know? The one who's handicapped about emotions and love and that sort of stuff. Was I wrong, rockface?" And then he disappeared.

Zelgadiss gritted his teeth. He tasted blood, and reached for his pot of coffee, and drank of it. Strong, black, hard, unyielding coffee. "If I were handicapped in that department," he mumbled, "none of this would be so difficult." And he sipped, and tried hard for the numbness that, more and more, was eliding him.


	14. Weakness

**Chapter 13: Weakness **

_"Loving and being loved is the one true human vocation."~Daphne Rose Kingma_

_--"Children. I can hear the voices of children laughing. What those children need to survive is food and water. Though I may bring them paltry miracles with magic, I cannot say that I am truly helping them. I am always thankful to you for helping me because I cannot see."_

_--"We just want to provide strength for the weak. Leave the dirty work to us. Rezo the Red Priest is a great sage who leads the unfortunate to happiness. You have to stay a symbol of peace. Food and water isn't everything. People need hope to survive too, don't they?"_

_--"Zelgadiss…"_

_--"We're proud to be the strength of the great sage, Red Priest Rezo."_

_--"Thank you. From the bottom of my heart."_

_--"Stop that. We're living in a time where small evils are necessary for great good. That's why we have to become stronger. Even stronger!" _

_~Slayers Evolution-R, a conversation between Rezo and Zelgadiss Greywers._

_Also, due to hindsight, probably the most heartbreaking scene in the entire animanga. _

_************************************************************_

**~*The day that Zelgadiss confronts the Hellmaster's Jar*~ **

Rezo is stuck and he doesn't know where.

Rezo is stuck in a cold empty abyss and something is hugging onto him. No, more malevolent, not an embrace really. No. More like something is _choking_ him. Something with his voice and his smell and his touch. Something familiar, a drug, an obsession, a precious addiction to the weaknesses inside him. A him that no longer exists, but once did, with a terrible and selfish vengeance.

How did he get here, and why is it he hears someone speaking with _his_ voice, so coldly and cruelly, to Zelgadiss? Telling Zelgadiss he is not sorry for anything? Why is it his voice telling those lies? There is a desperation behind those lies, as if somehow it is his last hope in telling them. Or someone _else's _last hope.

Rezo is in the Hellmaster' Jar.

With the OTHER Rezo.

With the Rezo still fused with Shabranigdo.

All three of them together. A horrible mélange a trois.

And he can hear his boy's voice as it grows ever more agitated, and lost, and anguished.

_How did he get here_?

Oh yes.

It started with hiding in the bathroom, crying.

In the bathroom of an inn, in New Sairaag. With the Hellmaster himself. With all his memories, of things he did that are beyond unforgivable, coming back full force.

Everything went downhill from there.

~***One month before Zelgadiss confronts the Hellmaster's Jar.*~**

One thousand bodies.

One thousand souls.

And a convenient disease called "The Durum," to make a decoy, a "reason for intervention, for healing," in order to imprison them in crystal and subject them.

To experiments.

For his own eyes.

For his own benefit.

"_We live in a time in which small evils are necessary for great good_…" Who had said that to him? Hadn't that been….?

Oh.

Had he actually ever really done this?

Yes. He really had.

And now he remembered. Now he remembered everything about Taforashia. Everything. He remembered that boy, that prince. Who'd trusted him. Who'd lain himself out on the cold stone floor of his disease-ridden castle and said "Do anything you want to me, for my people." The boy-prince who had trusted him implicitly.

Just like another boy, so much more vital to Rezo's existence, once had.

Zelgadiss would never forgive Rezo when he learned of this. Zelgadiss, who had once been so altruistic, so free, so pure. So painfully pure and innocent—painfully, yes, because Rezo knew the day would come when that innocence would be broken. So much more painfully, now, in retrospect, in merciless recollection, knowing he had even been the cause of that shattered innocence.

Zelgadiss…like the sun itself, which even with one's eyes forever closed, one can still feel—its warmth, its uncompromised, uncompromis_ing_ brightness, the light even through one's eyelids. The sun, ever fixed, ever central, guiding one otherwise stranded in the darkness. One cannot block out the sun.

Unless there is a solar eclipse. Rezo caused a solar eclipse.

Because he was dirty, dirty, dirty, and so very weak. Because a thousand paltry miracles could not erase his crimes. Because he became addicted to a self-absorbed dream: CURE CURE CURE. And Zelgadiss, the sun, was eclipsed by that addiction.

And for this, Rezo hated himself, every fiber and inch of himself, everything. Every hair and bruise and tooth and thought. He hated it all. It was that simple.

He remembered this nightmare, this living nightmare, after vomiting up Zelgadiss's mango-tomato drink. Oh, how _sainted _of him. A man with the well-being of a thousand lives on his hands, whom he used for his cure cure cure cure cure cure cure…CURE CURE CURE CURE _CURE CURE CURE. CURE_!

Oh gods his brain wasn't working right anymore.

Maybe it would all be fixed if he got rid of his eyes.

Yes.

Perhaps he should just gouge them out now. In this bathroom of this dumpy inn in the middle of New Sairaag. Yes. Then he could _never_ see, and _that _could be his punishment for destroying everything in his path trying to open his eyes to the light.

Yes. Rezo would do that. He would dig out his eyeballs and that way he could never have the source of his addiction again.

_That would be Rezo's punishment for eclipsing the sun_.

"…Rezo?"

A real voice. Who was that? A child? So shy. He knew that voice. But it was both familiar and foreign.

Rezo was standing with one foot in the bathtub—it was wet and he must have filled it at some point, with tepid water. It was cold now and his wet freezing body was trembling.

One foot in, one foot out. Jekyll and Hyde, and you shake it all about. You do the hokey-pokey and turn yourself around…

Rezo laughed, not his big alive laugh, but a feeble, wheeze-like sound, and he pressed his fingers to his aching, cursed eyes, to his addiction. "Excuse me. I'm busy. I have to get rid of something. Mm. Yes."

"Don't do that."

"Go away. I'm retired. I don't heal anymore." Rezo mumbled in circuitous nausea. "Maybe I never did. It was never enough regardless. It was_ never _enough_._ _I_ was never enough. That was why I wanted to see, in the beginning, you know…to be _enough _for the weak. But it was stupid. Stupid. Because you know, _I'm_ the one who was always really weak. _Go away_."

"No please. Don't. You're too kind."

Rezo roared an angrier, louder laugh. "I am NOT kind! _I'm a hypocrite_! _I GOT RID OF THE SUN_! I'm POLLUTION! I'm DARKNESS! Who ARE you anyway?! _GET OUT_!"

Small, meek footsteps. Closer. "All the same, don't get rid of them. Your eyes. Please. Maybe you think they're useless but they're beautiful. They're big and brown and…they make people stop being mean to me. Please, just… listen. It's terrible enough that I'm saying this to a human. Father…father will already be so angry."

Rezo froze, not because he felt any saner, but because the shock of who was talking to him, trying to comfort him, overwhelmed and temporarily blocked out his frenzy.

_Fibrizo_.

"…Humans like hope, right? They need it. Have um. Have hope. Yeah. Do they gift-wrap hope, humans? If they do maybe I can go out and get you some." The Hellmaster stood in front of the Red Priest, pigeon-toed. At his full height, the stunted demon lord didn't even reach Rezo's navel.

"I kill hope too. I'm weak and dirty. Maybe that's why I drew a bath…I forget now…"

"Rezo…I'm weak and dirty too, so let's stay together…"

"Why do YOU care?" Rezo lifted his foot out of the filled tub with a great slorsh. He shakily closed the toilet lid and collapsed to a sitting position on it. "A demon. HIS child? My _drug dealer's_ child! Are you going to 'hook me up,' Hellmaster? _Ha_!"

"I care because you…you don't get mad when I'm not exactly like you, or when I make mistakes. You let me make mistakes. You let me think for myself. These are horrible sins against father, but…but they feel so…_good_. And…you _trust_ me. I want to stick with you for a while. I like Red. Rezo is _nice_ to me."

Rezo didn't know why but he blurted it, his second confession to the Lord of Hell: "I never intended to cure Taforashia. I used them as a test population to cure my eyes. And _now_? Do you still want to stay with me now?"

"…Okay. Sure. Yeah, I do." A tiny body sat down on Rezo's leg. A tiny hand rested on top of his own, which still threatened, clawed at, at his eyes. "So. You remember using my jar now, huh? Go on?"

"When I found out they'd all been infected by the Durum Disease. I researched and researched and found the legend of your jar. I made my own facsimile. It promised to be just as successful! But I needed to test it and I needed a thousand bodies to see. To match my soul to an adequate replacement…"

Rezo tried to buck Fibrizo's small hand, but that hand was surprisingly strong, and so he wriggled a bit under the Hellmaster's grasp. When it became clear that he was trapped by this unlikely companion, he resumed his confession.

"…So I put them all in your crystals and I _played_ with all their _souls_, and I found that soul-transfer was a feasible magical process. And I was excited, I was actually happy and excited. I played with those souls some more. I deluded myself. '_It's a small evil_,' I kept reciting to myself, every night at bedtime. '_When I see I can save millions more, I can really do whatever is necessary to save more! I can lose a thousand to save millions_!' I made myself BELIEVE that! A 'small' evil! HA! _HAHA_! Ha! I'm _REPULSIVE_!"

"…like me. Like I do. For father. You played with these…like I do." Fibrizo produced a handful of humming golden baubles. They nestled on Rezo's mantle, as though anonymous, kind strangers trying to comfort the agonized sage.

At the moment, it wasn't working. "_Yes_, Fibrizo," Rezo growled through his teeth. He brushed the soul-baubles away, and his eyes burned and ached some more. "For your father. Every time I healed someone. Every time I touched Zelgadiss's face. Every time I smiled or felt tenderly. Your father's voice flared up in my head and told me I was disobedient, and he punished me. He punished me by twisting me more and more and more. He made me do these things, these awful things, so that I'd obey, so that my love would evaporate. _And I LET HIM make me_. I am the weakest, dirtiest person who has ever lived. I am worse than you, because at least you are a monster and it is expected of you. But I am a _human_. A _human_ is meant to _love_. And so I am weak. And my doubts make me weaker still."

"Maybe you _were_. But…you're _Here_. You're _Now_. Right? I don't know…I never tried to understand this stuff before. But. Things keep going, don't they? Things don't stop forever. Don't they change? I made a big mistake and Someone Most Powerful came and destroyed me. But then I came back too and…it's all different and now I'm…seeing that. Through um. Through _you_. I still want to stay with you. In Now and Here."

Such gentle words, from the most impossible source. More words of undeserved pardon. Exoneration. A clean slate.

Rezo bent over at the waist, hugged his chest, and sobbed. He tasted blood…he'd been biting his tongue, hard.

Fibrizo wiped away the red that drizzled out Rezo's mouth. He looked at it, momentarily entranced by its evidence of both life and mortality. "I…mean it. I want to stay."

"That's good," Rezo choked out, hands raking through his maroon hair, at last no longer trying to gouge out his eyes. "Because _he'll leave me_. Zelgadiss will leave me when he finds the jar, and talks to it. He'll learn _unforgivable_ things, and it will be _over._ He'll leave me. My boy. The sun. Darkness again. _All over_."

Fibrizo was persistent. "Well. Well I want you to teach me more things before I go back to father. Please. I'll stay with you. And…I can't find father anyway, s-so…" The last sentence was a shamefaced whisper: "_Maybe I'll never go back to him_."

Rezo paused again. Had the Lord of Hell just offered high treason to Shabranigdo, to stay with _him_?

_It's all he knows_, Xelloss had said. _Ownership and slavery. Remember that. He never grows_.

Was that still true?

Someone knocked on the bathroom door. "Gramps." Zelgadiss. "You _know_ I can pick locks. Hells, you taught me. You've been in there for like three hours. Whether or not you're done, at _some_ point Ash or I is going to have to take a piss. Or. Well. At least I am. Ash is a tree, but I am."

Rezo didn't move or speak.

Zelgadiss called again, with still more force. "Come out or I'll pick the lock. Seriously, old man. _Now_."

Fibrizo's face brightened. "You can pick locks? I can pick pockets! Let's get out of here so we can teach each other!"

Rezo straightened where he sat, and he stood up. His face was catatonic. "Of…course. Sure."

Fibrizo took the Wise Man's sleeve and tugged insistently, toward the door. Rezo obeyed, opened it, robotically walked out.

Zelgadiss, frowning fiercely, stepped aside for his kinsman and the demon lord.

Fibrizo haughtily returned that scowl. "I got him to come out," he announced imperiously.

"Well, _bully_ for _you_," Zelgadiss snapped. "Hey, Gramps? Yo. Gramps!"

Rezo nearly attacked him in that moment. His hands lashed out, felt that face, the anchor, the sun, again. He mumbled frantically: "_I love you_. That part wasn't a lie. From the bottom of my heart. Don't forget it. _No matter what_. _That_ part was _true_. That part wasn't ever corrupted. Ever. I love you, so much that it fills my Empty and it hurts. A _good_ hurt…but I can't tell you why I'm sad. No no. It's just too bad. Too bad. I can't say. But that doesn't change the fact that I love you…!"

Zelgadiss jolted and flushed scarlet. "…Uh, right…I won't pry right now, rain check…hey let go…jeez…_stop it_. Stop reciting poetry about me, sheesh. Just lie down or something."

"Oh, but I can't.' Rezo smiled feebly. "Fibrizo wants me to show him how to pick locks."

Zelgadiss hesitated. He ferociously scanned Fibrizo from head to toe, as if signs of suspiciousness or distrust were visible in the Hellmaster's blue-clad, diminutive form. Apparently he found nothing objectionable at the moment. "Fine," he muttered. "Don't over-exert." He retreated, to his own bed. He sat on it and pulled out his light luggage from a small enchanted knapsack under the frame. A tattered old guitar was among the items. He started to strum it, some meandering, mellow tune.

Rezo completely stopped moving at that sound. Into his blank face seeped an immense and unchecked joy. "_He still plays_?" the Red Priest breathed.

Amelia, who had been quietly helping Ash clean the sick-up mess on the floor, straightened and went to Rezo. "All the time," she said. "So it was you who gave him that guitar? It's got to be well over fifteen years old." She rubbed Rezo's nearest, tense arm, in rhythmic, soothing circles.

"Light wood? Celtic carving? Red strings? Please tell me yes."

"Some of them. He's had to replace a few."

"Oh…how wonderful…he still plays…"

"Come on, Mr. Rezo." Amelia's tone was bright and soft and sweet, with tremulous traces of enthusiasm. It reminded Rezo of Zelgadiss as a younger human boy, in a girl's form. No wonder they were such a good match. Amelia kept Zelgadiss rooted to whatever innocence, what optimism he yet naturally possessed. Amelia fought the damage that Rezo had done, with Shabranigdo twisting him. "Come on. Why don't you show Mr. Fibrizo how you pick locks? And safes, too, I think. Mr. Xelloss and I watched Mr. Zelgadiss pick a safe's lock once too."

"Is it really so special, knowing how?" Rezo felt sheepish and didn't know why. Amelia's kindly touch was making him drowsy and calm; there was probably some white magic inscribed into it.

"Why, yes," she said. "You promised me a story a day about Mr. Zelgadiss's childhood. Showing me something you taught him counts for today."

"Oh, yes, of course. Forgive me, that's right, we did have that agreement. Well I just. It's just a silly hodgepodge skill…"

But then Rezo felt a little tug at the money-purse hanging from his belt. Almost as light as a bee landing on him. He blinked and brushed at the place. His purse was gone.

Someone giggled and tugged on his sleeve.

Fibrizo again. "I robbed ya!" the Lord of Hell chirped.

Rezo's jaw dropped. "How did you do that?"

"Oh, I dunno, practice! It's a fun hobby. It makes food too. People get mad when they lose their money, after all. Now you show me your trick!"

"Oh." Rezo shrugged. He felt so drained and sleepy now. "I don't know." He reached half-heartedly for his purse.

"Nuh-UH! Can't have your money back till you show me!" Fibrizo tittered some more, and scampered into the bathroom, closing and locking the door. "Pick the lock!"

The Red Priest pursed his lips. "That's not very nice." But he was fighting an inexplicable and irrepressible grin. He stumbled to the bathroom door and ran his palms along its surface.

Amelia and Zelgadiss watched this whole offbeat and…oddly sweet…interaction, transfixed. They exchanged stunned gazes, and Zelgadiss stopped playing his guitar in his surprise. Amelia started to grin, then, too. "Justice _always_ prevails," she whispered.

Rezo found the doorknob. He magicked a bobby pin into his hand. "I'm coming to _get_ you!" he teasingly leered, every bit the father playing with the son. It was as if, for the moment, his grief and misery had utterly vaporized.

Still in the bathroom, forcing up against the door from the other side, Fibrizo exploded into another round of giggles.

Zelgadiss's guitar dropped to the floor at the unfolding tableau. It made an unceremonious BONG sound, and he flushed. But he didn't turn away, didn't make a surly remark to cover his bungle. He stared transfixed. Because it was like an out of body experience, back in time: watching Rezo playing with _him _as a little boy. That was the same teasing line from great-grandpa, in many a rainy-day game of hide-and-go-seek…and there was of course that time Zelgadiss had been a toddler and fallen into the toilet and Rezo had to break into the mansion bathroom to rescue him. Rezo had recalled that memory with crystalline precision.

Amelia's head dropped onto the chimera's shoulder. She kissed his neck and sighed. "I know," she said. "I know, Mr. Zelgadiss. It's alright."

"Is it?" he mumbled.

Rezo fiddled with the lock another moment before giving a triumphant crow of "HA" and turning the handle. "Gotcha!"

"O-kayyy." A childlike arm shot out, and obediently returned the change-purse. "You win, Rezo."

Rezo reached down without thinking and smoothed Fibrizo's inky hair. "Thank you," he said.

The Hellmaster's eyes became large, unfocused, reverent. "Okay," he muttered, but he was beaming. "I'm going to go look for your hope now." And with that he disappeared.

Rezo blinked and then chuckled. "Isn't he delightful?" The words probably sounded mad to the other occupants of the room.

Except for Ash, who, still tidying, glanced over his shoulder and called, "Why yes! He really is, when you give him the chance!" He winked at those who could see, and at those who couldn't, and then he procured a feather duster, moving into Amelia's single room.

Rezo meandered over to his bed and sat on it. His features were becoming a little dull again, but he wasn't as frenzied as he had been only minutes past. For the moment he tried to force the newly regained knowledge of Taforashia to the back of his mind. Perhaps he had a little longer with Zelgadiss, before the sun went into eclipse again. Before Zelgadiss met the Hellmaster's Jar and found everything out.

The sound of quiet words of consultation. The sound of light footsteps out of the room—Amelia. The sound of a chair scraping across floorboards. The sound of a body taking a seat in that chair.

And finally, the sound of Zelgadiss's voice. "I asked for another…moment…alone with you. I think our last uh. Discussion. Went as badly as our first. But I still have…things to say."

"Please go ahead." Rezo leaned forward, rubbing his temples.

"Look, obviously we've got bad blood. Major bad blood…and you can't think I'm just being capricious and hateful. You have to know what you did."

Oh, did he ever. "Zelgadiss, such a thought _never _crossed my mind. You've been amazing to me, all things considered."

"Well…good. Then. You want to know why I'm pissed at you? The _biggest_ reason?"

Rezo didn't have the strength or will to resist this newest of verbal assaults from Zelgadiss. He almost masochistically welcomed them. It was like going through alchemical flames in some slim hope that he'd be purified of his pathetic, weak, malicious former self. "Feel free to tell me."

Zelgadiss was fiercely ready. Paradoxically, it was as if he'd been waiting for the get-go, the word of consent, from Rezo. And now, go he did: "I'll tell you. That day you found me in the woods chopping away at a tree, wanting to be 'stronger'? God _damn_ it, Re….G…gramps. I was pitching that fit at that tree because I was frustrated with _myself_ for us disconnecting more and more. Because that day I'd fatigued in a bandit raid. I wanted to be WORTHY of YOU. '_That great man_.' That's what I called you. I wanted the power I asked of you because becoming stronger meant I would keep alive the hopes of the people we helped and saved. I wanted the power because to me you…I…I _did it for you_. And you? You turned me into a chimera."

"…oh…" Rezo seized his eyes and it looked like he might dig them out. He almost tried to, again. Those worthless god-damned eyes that had made him put Zelgadiss, who had loved him that much, last.

"_Stop_, okay?" Zelgadiss growled. "Anyway I'm not…ready for this conversation. Not yet. I shouldn't have tried again so soon."

Rezo obeyed at once. "You've got it," he said, raising his hands as a gesture of respectful deference. Then he shook his head. "I'm sorry, I just…"

"I know, alright? I know already. I…you and me, it…I know. That it wasn't…you exactly…who did that. Lina figured out as much. I didn't believe her at first, not for a few years. But it…the theory grew on me. That you were a prisoner and Shabranigdo was the master. So you don't have to like…you know…"

"_Don't_ let me off the hook." Rezo raised his head and flashed his severest glare at Zelgadiss. "Don't you be _that_ kind to me."

"I'm not. Not for everything. Just…for what even I might have done in your shoes. Who's to say? You weren't exactly in your right mind. Carrying around a ma-oh inside your human body. That's like holding a ton of lead inside a china shell. It's gonna break at some point."

Rezo laughed brokenly. "No. You were right before. You and I are _nothing_ alike, Zelgadiss. I couldn't hope to lick your boots. You are strong, and loyal, and brave, and kind. You are everything I pretended to be, without even having to think about it. I'm ashamed of myself and always will be. But. By the gods, I'm proud of you."

He reached out and touched Zelgadiss's cheek once again. Briefly, not wanting to push his luck.

"We're not so different." Zelgadiss pulled away after a moment and rubbed the back of his neck. "Just ask Amelia. She has a running itinerary of things you and I do that are identical. It's really irksome but there you have it." He fumbled with a string on his cloak, and then he started. "Huh. What's today's date?"

Rezo paused, looking, suddenly, sour. He huffed. "February twenty-second. Don't you dare…"

"Well. I'll be damned, Gramps. You just thought I wouldn't notice, huh?"

"No please. _Don't_ make a big hullabaloo. Those things are so stupid at my age." Rezo's cheeks violently flushed. "Three hundred forty eight years old, I mean, gracious. Where will you find the candles? Oh, Zelgadiss, PLEASE don't…Zelgadiss?"

Zelgadiss's smile threatened to split his granite face in two. "I've found something that _hideously mortifies_ you. Hahhh hah _hahhhhhhh_." He laughed: a sinister cackle indeed, ringing out from hell's abysses. He had found a way to get back at his great-grandpa, who had, in his day, been quite prone to pranks and puns.

"No! What? Don't be cruel!" Goosebumps popped up along Rezo's neck. That was a damned dark snicker coming from his kinsman.

"Ohoho. You think I'M bad?" Zelgadiss assumed a mockingly deep, throaty voice. Rezo's voice. "Wise Man say, 'Those who love justice love parties, too_. Beware_ of kitschy overblown celebrations at their hands.'"

"Stop mocking the sayings of the Elders!"

"HA. Hey, AMELIA! Guess what DAY it is."

"Oh, drat, STOP it! Do you hear me? OH, you little SNOT, don't you laugh!"

The princess's oblivious and tinkling voice rang out from the other room, "Why, what do you mean, Mr. Zelgadiss?"

"Ask REZO."

"No, _damn _it, knock it off!" The Red Priest—and never had his title been so fitting—concealed his face in his hands.

"_You cussed_, HAHA!" Zelgadiss slapped his hands across his hard thighs. He was as delighted as any school-age boy whose elder, ostensibly pure as the driven snow, had made a slip of the tongue.

"I'm _so_ glad my mortification pleases you!" Rezo sputtered. He tried to look haughty but Zelgadiss ruined that with his gales of already rare guffaws.

Amelia popped her head into the room. Her cherubic face had never been so cinched in puzzlement. "What is it? Mr. Rezo?"

"It's his BIRTHDAY!" Ash, appearing quite without warning, happily boomed.

"How did _you_ know?" Rezo moaned.

"A Pisces!" Amelia squealed. "Oh, how _fitting_, Mr. Rezo! Those melancholy and sacrificial and nurturing and and and conflicted fish!"

"…I'm a _fish_?"

"A _noble_ fish," Ash asserted, sticking his head in as well.

"No wonder he goes on about sardine-headed gods in his sleep," Zelgadiss remarked.

"Quiet!" Rezo nearly whined.

Of course this only encouraged his kinsman. "Heh heh. Sardine heaaaad."

"I said quiet! Oh, _horsefeathers_!"

"Nope, sardine heads."

"Oh!"

"Are you guys picking on him?" Fibrizo bristled, toddling in. "I _like_ fish," he added mutinously. "But I couldn't find any hope to gift-wrap…"

"Picking on him? Oh, hardly!" Amelia sang. "But there will be OTHER things to gift-wrap! Oh, Mr. Rezo! We must throw a party, with balloons, and they will all be RED and GRAY, and with dancing and music and an enormous cake and GIFTS!" Inhumanely high-pitched cooing sounds emanated from the princess, who clapped her hands together and rushed over to hug both Greywers.

Zelgadiss looked twice as smug as before. "Wise Man _say_," he smirked, while Amelia's soft little arm squeezed him around the neck.

"If I told you to go to your room," Rezo hissed around Amelia's other arm, "would you even listen?"

"No more than I ever did," the chimera retorted. And then he clapped Rezo on the back—hard.

"_Oof_. I see." Rezo sighed.

"Gently, Mr. Zelgadiss," Amelia chided. "And now, we must go shopping! Oh, perhaps if I contact Miss Sylphiel, she could use her connections to get the town square decorated in time!"

"The _what_?" Rezo all but wailed. He flung his arms once, in denial. "No! I'm _not_ leaving this room! It's my party and I'll sulk if I want to!"

"Isn't that a song?" Ash idly mused.

"Heh, maybe we need a disc jockey too," Zelgadiss sneered. "Or a string quartet. Maybe an orchestra. Does Sairaag have a civic orchestra? Amelia, I think you should totally go all out. Three hundred forty seven balloons, and max out Phil's Seyruun credits at the New Sairaag shops. Heh heh."

"Don't be horrid," Rezo moaned.

"Too late," his kinsman shot back. Thankfully, Amelia was already dragging him out the door, her eyes agleam with the jubilant horizon of retail paradise.

Rezo lay back on his bed, not certain whether he should feel touched or terrified.

Fibrizo's hand tugged on his sleeve yet again. His weird little imprinted duckling was certainly persistent. "So um. What can I give you for your birthday? I guess humans don't like zombie corpses so much. Maybe something else…stupid Xelloss should be here to advise me, he's a real scholar at human behavior…"

"You needn't give me anything." Rezo found himself stroking the head of his unlikely companion. "You already gave me more than you may ever know, in that bathroom. You kept me from floating away to a really dark place."

"I won't tattle," Fibrizo assured him. And then he glanced down at his arm, the arm and hand attached to Rezo like a lifeline. "Hey…hey. Rezo? What if I give you something of mine?"

"Like?"

"Um. This." Fibrizo removed one of the fragile gold bracelets from his wrist and tried to slide it onto Rezo's wrist. "It….it won't fit. I'm too little. I never _grow_…"

"Now, now." Rezo sat up in bed and reached for his staff. He slipped the bracelet onto it, near the metallic rings that sang for him over terrain and helped him see. "It's perfect. I love it. Thank you."

Fibrizo lifted his arms upward, dragging Rezo's sleeve along. "Ha, hooray! Yay! I gave you stuff and you like it! Rezo is nice to me and happy. Yes! I made Rezo happy!"

"Very happy, Fibrizo." Warmth spread out through Rezo, from his chest out, warmth and a newly dawning hope. Someone still accepted him. He had a chance.

"It's better than pomegranate juice!"

"Better than cinnamon rolls."

"Better than three-headed pet guard dogs!"

"Mm, haha. Better than a litter of kittens!"

"The _best_! The…the best…it's bad, I shouldn't…but I…I mean it!" Fibrizo gazed around the room, almost wildly, with a kind of blessed relief. A freedom. A newness.

Growth.

And then Fibrizo, eldest son of Ruby-Eyed Shabranigdo, declared it: "_Rezo's happiness is the best and most important thing to me now!_"

And that was when, with a sizzling sound, and an astonished and afraid stare, Fibrizo…

Vanished.

Rezo laughed for a while, not noticing his solitude. But when he reached down to embrace this weird and changing new friend of his…only air greeted him. "Fibrizo? Fibrizo! ….Fibrizo…"

Gone.

"Where did…?" Panic seized Rezo. Strangely breathless, he stood and felt blindly around the room. He tore open chests of drawers. Rushed into the bathroom where he'd been rescued. Felt in the still-full tub. Nothing. "Fibrizo!"

Rezo tripped back out into the master suite.

"SURPRISE!" The chorus of Amelia, Ash, and a far less enthusiastic Zelgadiss, greeted him. The room was full of balloons…presumably red and gray ones.

But the celebratory gesture was claustrophobic and stifling now. "Fibrizo's gone!" Rezo gasped, shoving balloons aside.

Zelgadiss, who was holding a stack of parcels higher than his head, thrust them all onto the bed and advanced on Rezo. "Easy. What are you talking about? Demons teleport all the time, remember. Anyway, try and remember who we're dealing with here. He's pretty much a sick psycho."

"But …_no_! He was kind to me! And …he…he was in the middle of…it makes no sense! He was happy and…we were in the middle of a conversation….there's no way he'd just teleport off in the middle of a sentence."

Ash sighed. "Oh, dear. Already, then."

"What was he saying?" Zelgadiss asked levelly. He shot Ash a narrow-eyed look.

"He…" Rezo swallowed. "He said my happiness was more important to him than anything."

Amelia yelped.

Zelgadiss nodded once, twice, slowly. "Okay. Amelia. It's time we rejoined Lina and Gourry and Pokota, and got to Vezendi…the monster ranks are…stirring, clearly. Fibrizo told me he'd give me a first crack at the Hellmaster's Jar. If he broke that promise, if he vanished for some reason related to it all, then that means…something big's coming." He went for his broadsword and luggage.

Amelia nodded, scuttling to her room for her own belongings.

The parcels lay unopened on the bed. The bracelet, Fibrizo's bracelet, reposed on Rezo's staff, making no sound.

Rezo's heart broke, then and there. So it was already over. Already time for another solar eclipse. Pokota himself was with Zelgadiss's traveling party. Zelgadiss was going to Vezendi to fight that assassin Zuuma, to meet with Ozer, to speak to the Jar. He'd find out everything, and break again, and leave Rezo forever.

Zelgadiss returned to the sage's side before Rezo was prepared. He didn't notice Rezo's quiet whimper of surprise and woe because he was too busy task-managing. "Listen, Rez…Gramps. Listen. We've got to go. You stay here in New Sairaag. We'll…we'll be back for you, okay? If part of your soul's in that jar, we'll need to see about…fusing you somehow…or at least getting clearer answers. But until I know what's up, Amelia and I will keep your existence a secret from the others. Just lie low. We're coming back. Okay?"

"I love you," Rezo murmured. "Not a lie. Never was."

Zelgadiss gave an exasperated and uncomfortable sigh, but his eyes were soft. "So you've said. Just…be good…or something. And Gramps, I…" He lost his nerve, and averted his eyes.

"I know. I always have." Rezo reached again for that face, to etch it in memory just one more time.

But Zelgadiss was in a hurry, and he dodged. "Not _now_, Gramps."

Not now, not ever. There wasn't always a "later." It was like a cruel replay of that very day when everything changed between them…perhaps irrevocably.

Rezo sank onto his bed and turned his face to the wall. "…goodbye."

Zelgadiss huffed, and scowled at Ash, who looked inordinately worried. "You. Tree-dude. Take care of him."

"Assuredly, Master Zelgadiss," Ash nodded.

"Fine. Good. Come on, Amelia."

And it was with that, leaving a flurry of red balloons and package wrappings behind them, Amelia and Zelgadiss parted ways with Rezo.

Ash sat down on Rezo's bed. He rested a hand on the Red Priest's clammy forehead, imparting a gentle blessing. "I still believe it will be alright for you in the end, Sir Rezo."

"That may or may not be," came a new but familiar voice.

Rezo frowned and twisted his neck around in bed. Ash gave a startled "huh."

Xelloss stood in the doorway to the inn suite, his ever-present smile slightly tight. "I have my reasons for this, which are my secret to keep. And I have very little time to tell you what I am about to say--after which, due to the nature of my assignment coming to fruition, you and I will become enemies. So zip your lips, Red Priest, and I'll lead you to the salvation of Hellmaster Fibrizo and Zelgadiss Greywers. Because in both cases, it's pretty much up to _you_."

Rezo sat up. Rezo stood. Rezo's hopelessness evaporated, and resolve replaced it. "I'm ready," he said. "Tell me."


	15. Again

**Chapter 14: Again**

_(Author's note: Yes, folks, here's the chapter where everything officially converges with Evolution-R's plot, and explains __how my story is neither AU nor fanon__. It also explains why the hell, hur hur, I included Fibrizo in this story. Hopefully all confusions, if there are any, will be cleared up. _

_And yes, since this question is circling heavily in the Slayers internet community, I AM STILL of the position that __Rezo is a__redemptive figure__,and is __deliberately misleading Zelgadiss and Pokota__…for reasons which will, I hope, become clear in the final three episodes. Pay attention to __Lina's__ comments in the __end of the 10__th__ episode__, as a springboard. If you want an extensive commentary to that end, please visit my LiveJournal account, the same username as here at fanfiction. net. _

_Now, IF I am incorrect, and jar-Rezo really is an irredeemable rat bastard who ISN'T being controlled by Shabranigdo, this fanfiction may or may not go uncompleted. I will do my best regardless. And if I need to go on an authorial hiatus to sort out my thoughts after the Evolution-R finale, I will let you, the readers, know._

_Also, be warned: this is THE longest chapter in my fanfic. So be patient, and maybe drink some coffee while reading, lol. _

_Anyway, thanks, and enjoy! ) _

_************************************************************_

"_Still a little bit of you laced with my doubt,_

_Still a little hard to say what's going on…_

_Still a little bit of your ghost, your weakness..._

_Step a little closer each day,_

_That I can't see what's going on._

Stones taught me to fly

_Love taught me to lie_

_Life taught me to die_

_So it's not hard to fall_

_When you float like a cannonball."_

_~Damien Rice_

"_It will be great to see you again  
Now that the old wounds have mended  
I promise I'll be waiting by the door  
Unlike so many nights before_  
_Through my selfishness  
Couldn't see where you were coming from  
It took your leaving to see  
To see what I'd become  
You saw past all the things I'd done_

That night you found me in the living room  
Alone with the bottle I'd just consumed  
I cried for hours after you had left  
Must be hard to forgive  
Even harder to forget

Take the 2nd right at the 2nd light  
Pass Cherry Street, go left  
It's the second house with the willow tree  
I'll be there, waiting

Now that I've watched all the seasons change  
I've had time to see where my life had strayed  
And through every pain and disbelief  
You stood close by  
Through my lies, through my deceit

So do you recall  
How to get here  
You might not recognize  
What you see

I'll be there, waiting  
I'll be there, waiting

You never forgot how to get here  
You never forgot how to get here  
You never forgot how to get here"

_--Plumb_

**~*Less than a month before Zelgadiss meets the Hellmaster's Jar*~**

Xellos was a truly unsentimental post-idealist, an efficiency expert and a sociopath to boot. And so when Rezo launched to his feet and uttered his touching cry of "Tell me, I'm ready!" Xelloss disregarded the drama completely.

He took a seat on the bed occupied so recently by Zelgadiss. He set his staff aside, crossed his legs, waved his wrist, and produced for himself a cup of tea: which mockingly bore the appearance of the Hellmaster's Jar design. It was twice as perverse an act considering Xelloss knew Rezo couldn't even see the teacup.

At last he spoke. "Lord Hellmaster has committed treason against his father Lord Ruby-Eyes. Quite simply, he has been consumed by Lord Ruby-Eyes and been frozen in a moment of time. His development has quite literally been arrested, at the moment of treason: when he declared his patent fondness for _you_, Mr. Rezo."

Rezo suddenly felt stupid standing there spread-eagled in front of the cool, pragmatic mazoku. He sank back onto his bed. Ash was waiting, with a hand on Rezo's nearest shoulder, as the Red Priest pressed, "Alright, so what is it I'm meant to do?"

"You're to go to Vezendi as well, separate from Mr. Zelgadiss's traveling party. To the home of the assassin Zuuma, alias Radok Ranzaad. You remember Zuuma, ne? The man who wants to use the Hellmaster's Jar to fancily squash his objects of vengeance?"

"Ah, yes, I rather distinctly recall him attacking us on the road outside of Sairaag, several days ago."

"Indeed!" Xelloss clapped his hands like a teacher delighted with a swift-minded pupil. His gloves made a muffled sound of approval as he continued, "And that's because Miss Ozer had not yet delivered him the Hellmaster's Jar. At the time he logically assumed, seeing you and Lord Hellmaster together, that _you_ were in possession of it. He hadn't banked on more than one piece of your soul being present on Red Orb, Mr. Rezo. And then Miss Ozer went to his home in fulfillment of her contract to him, and gave him the jar: hence Zuuma not meddling with us since."

"I'm with you," Rezo nodded. "Go on."

"Yes, to the point: I have orders to eliminate Mr. Zuuma within the next month."

"…as in…?"

"Yes, Mr. Rezo." Xelloss gave a cold, condescending laugh. "As in _kill_. Really, with _your_ track record, I'd pegged you as a Machiavellian by now, who wouldn't be too troubled by the notion of eliminating a great evil for a greater…heh, let's call it a greater 'good,' for the sake of argument."

Rezo took that cruel sucker-punch right to his gut. He felt Ash squeezing his shoulder tighter. "It would be helpful, and certainly expedient for all parties, if you'd stay on-topic," he told Xelloss through his teeth.

"As you wish. What I mean is, it will be much easier for you if you get yourself into the jar before I off Zuuma. Because once he's dead, Miss Ozer, Lina Inverse, and your own Zelgadiss, will all be fighting for possession of it. And it will be hard for you to get into the jar yourself once it's constantly guarded."

For a moment the words didn't sink in. "_Into_…the jar…?" Rezo gasped.

"Yes. Physically and in soul. You need to get into the jar and you need to confront the fragment of Lord Ruby-Eyes's soul which is connected to the fragment of your own. All inside the jar. Because it's that fragment of Lord Ruby-Eyes that has the most potential to be resurrected in the coming days—and it's that fragment that has Fibrizo in its clutches. You are the only one who can reach Fibrizo and free him. Otherwise he'll be trapped in that moment of treason forever. And in that jar, as well."

"Alright, I accept those terms, but how does _any_ of this relate to _Zelgadiss_?"

"Ah." Xelloss tapped a finger to his smirking lip. "Now, that is a secret."

Rezo was starting to really detest that line.

"I presume…I need to get there fast," he ventured, piecing things together.

"So it would seem," Xelloss confirmed.

"Can you teleport me to Vezendi?"

"Absolutely not. I don't want to end up in Fibrizo's place, after all. Self-interest, and all that."

"Then thank you for your assistance thus far, Mr. Xelloss." Rezo brushed past the mazoku, seized his staff, and went right for the inn stairwell. Xelloss smiled—a queer, musing leer, laden with enigma—and disappeared.

"Wait, Sir Rezo." Ash followed at the Red Priest's heels. "I believe I can help you get there without the labor and time wasted by foot." He grasped Rezo's nearest hand. "You're part of me now, ever since you pulled the Blessed Blade from your own body. You state the place, and I can get you there instantly."

Rezo turned fully to face Ash. Something compelled him to embrace his faithfully kind vassal. "You have been so good to me, Flagoon," he breathed. "And I have deserved none of your generosity, from the start. Whatever happens hereafter, thank you."

"Sir Rezo, you may deserve my kindness more than you realize." Ash patted the sage's cheek. "Don't condemn yourself so unquestionably just yet. Good and evil exist in all of us. And you're you, a human, capable of both in great quantities. Forgive yourself or you will fail in this. Have hope, and as my time here is short…if I must return to the sapling that has been planted in my stead, and become a tree again, bring yourself and your loved ones by my roots and tell me how things have grown and mended. Because they will grow and mend, Sir Rezo. Hm?"

"…I'll try."

"Wonderful! Now, where to?"

"Vezendi. The home of the assassin Zuuma."

Ash put his big, calloused, gentle hands to each of Rezo's temples. Firmly he incanted, "Go with my blessing."

With a flurry of wind, the scent of autumn leaves, the sensation of something cool and cleansing, not unlike his time in limbo between Red Orb and the heavens, Rezo felt himself transported. Ash's hands slipped from his head as he left, and Rezo felt a profound loneliness for a moment as his friend disappeared.

Unfortunately magical tree-transportation systems connoted rough landings. Rezo's poorly-padded hindquarters met a hard stone floor as he arrived at his destination: an upwardly-mobile merchant's elaborate country manor.

The Red Priest scrambled to his feet, pressing up against a wall—no, a bookshelf. His fingers traced titles, until he found a wall…and more books. So he was in some kind of private study. It seemed he was alone…

"What you're looking for is on the table, Lord Rezo."

A woman's voice: soft but colorless.

"…Ozer?" Rezo queried, astounded at the coincidence.

"Yes." The sound of wooden joints creaking, the feel of a cold fleshless hand lovingly tracing his cheek. Rezo froze as Ozer mechanically elaborated, "I cannot break my contract with Mr. Radok, whom you, inside your jar, told me to serve. And I do not know how you can possibly be here, my lord, intact, in a body…"

Rezo was feeling a little hysterical again, and he almost blurted something along the lines of "Oh, that's a long story that would bore you, Ozer, dear," but he gulped back the silly line and the even sillier laughter that wanted to break through his serene façade.

Ozer concluded, "But I will pray for your success, for it is you in whom I still believe."

More creaking of machine-like limbs, and Ozer was gone. More abandonment, and yet in this case, it was probably fortunate.

Rezo remembered to breathe. He wiped his perspiring forehead with his sleeve, and cautiously shifted around the study's perimeter. New slivers of sweat cascaded down his body under his thick, cumbersome robes. When he came to the table that Ozer had prescribed, he had to swallow not to choke on his anxiety.

Here was the vessel in which the being who had single-handedly destroyed his life and a good portion of his soul resided. Ruby-Eyed Shabranigdo.

But this was for Fibrizo, who had accepted him, and for Zelgadiss, whom he loved. He must succeed.

Rezo slung his staff under one armpit and reached both hands to the Hellmaster's Jar. His fingers closed around each of the jar's handles.

At once, his eyes seared with agony. Someone gave a cruel, rumbling laugh. It sounded like him…and yet it didn't.

Rezo could not hold back a scream as he felt himself sucked into darkness incarnate. It felt like the suction began at his eyeballs, and the rest of him became a thick viscous liquid being forced through a sand-grain sized filter. It really, _really_ hurt.

"Why, Rezo," the Red Priest heard his own voice sneer, "_welcome back_."

**~*The day that Zelgadiss confronts the Hellmaster's Jar*~**

How long had it been?

A day? A month?

Rezo was pretty sure it had been a month. Because he'd felt so sleepy and drained, so sapped and empty, so exhausted, trapped in the embrace of something like a leech with his voice and mannerisms and memories. But he was vaguely awake now, and he heard the voices of Xelloss and Ozer, arguing: arguing over possession of the jar, and over the logistics of Zuuma's death.

So Xelloss had killed Zuuma as planned. That meant that Xelloss was strictly adhering to his orders, and he and Rezo were enemies now. That meant that something bigger and worse was coming to pass soon, and Rezo needed to wake up and start working on it…on freeing Fibrizo and protecting Zelgadiss…

Xelloss was gone now, and Lina Inverse was talking to her colleagues, and Rezo could hear Amelia once or twice, and that poor boy Pokota whom he'd used…but Rezo couldn't hear Zelgadiss…

Ozer was carrying the jar, she must be…Rezo could hear her voice loudest…but he had no power to reply, nor any will…only despair…

…_and the more he tried to wake up, the worse his eyes hurt…_

No…but…so sleepy…so sleepy….did any of it even matter now…?

"Yes," said Rezo's voice, soothingly, deceptively, but it still wasn't really _Rezo _uttering the words. "Yes. Go back to sleep."

Rezo obeyed the voice which was _and_ wasn't his.

More darkness, more aimless cold floating darkness.

And how long had this nap taken? It felt like it hadn't been quite as long this time. And Rezo was alert in an electrified way. Why?

Oh. It was a particular sound.

It was a beloved voice saying his name. Déjà "vu"… the voice that _always_ made him wake up.

"REZO! We'll get you a body! Just wake up!"

My boy.

"_REZO, WAKE UP!" _The jar shook violently.

_I'm coming._

Rezo stretched out his arms, escaping as best he could the stranglehold of his dark mirrored trapper.

He felt so small.

The way Fibrizo often said he felt, by "never growing."

"_REZO_!" Zelgadiss pressed. The startled mumbling of Inverse, Gabriev, Ozer, Pokota, and Amelia hummed all around the jar's walls. Perhaps they didn't realize how much Zelgadiss had once loved Rezo.

But Rezo knew. The fact was his center. His compass. His sun.

"Go back to sleep," said that voice that was and wasn't his.

_No, thank you_, Rezo thought, and he scowled, and his throat became thick with words, and he thrust out his hands in the dark endlessness. Relief—maybe he could reach his boy before the Terrible Thing that was coming, came.

His weird sense of humor piqued then, and he thundered with all the grandiosity necessary of such a portentious meeting: "Who is that? Who calls my name?"

An astonished gasp ran through the ranks outside the jar.

"Rezo…" Zelgadiss sounded so vulnerable, so young, so lost. The shaking of the jar ceased. "Is that really _you_?"

What a question, and not an easy one to answer.

Zelgadiss had to be confused. Faced with meeting Rezo in his own body only a month before, and now, today, faced with meeting a displaced and tainted shard of Rezo's soul in a jar.

_Oh, Zelgadiss…I let you down. In so many ways. Never again._

"I know that voice." Rezo smiled, and his forehead found the nearest curving wall of the clay prison. While his eyes seared and burned, he pressed that sweating forehead tenderly to that wall, growing as close as he could be to his boy. "We are connected by blood, Zelgadiss."

_Yes, it's "really ME." It's me. It's not the me from before. It's the me from Here and Now. KNOW it. I am HERE, my boy._

"Go back to sleep." That bastardized voice again, in his head. And damn, damn! He was getting drowsy again.

_No! Fight it, Rezo…you're a bloody mage, for gods' sakes! Ah, craps! But what was it I needed to tell them…?_

Taforashia…the horrible things he'd done there, but the way out too? But what about Fibrizo…?

_I'm so confused…wait…wait…! Just TALK before you doze off again…! Unworthy, unworthy after all, I'm a damned SARDINE HEAD after all!_

Rezo heard himself drawling something ridiculous, the kind of thing that Zelgadiss had always claimed Rezo incoherently babbled when sleep-talking:

"Even the head of a sardine can become a god with enough people to worship it…"

_Wait, what? Oh damn it. Did I really say that out loud?_

A collective "HUH?" "EH?" and "WHA?" outside the jar confirmed that he had.

_Oh. Bullocks. Somebody punch me._

Rezo tried again: "When slapped on your right cheek, punch with your left fist!"

In the space outside the jar, Ozer praised him for the wisdom behind that one. But still. What?

_No, wait! I have to repay this debt to my boy!_

He babbled without thinking a third time: "Have not the Elders said, 'why would a friend travel a great distance to see you, if not to ask that a debt be repaid?'"

_Ah. Crap. That's wrong, too…_

"My, Lord Rezo," Ozer gushed somewhere overhead, "your wisdom is endless!"

_Oh dear. I'm over-educated…and where did Zelgadiss go?_

Rezo paused for a breath. He rested his eyes…

…And it seemed he'd drifted off again. Now the traveling party was debating the issue of a red dragon stew, and how to deal with a bandit gang that had duplicated the jar infinitely, and a little blind boy…?

Wait. A little blind boy? Rezo tumbled over on his side as the jar was handed from Ozer to someone else entirely. "He will heal you," Ozer was promising.

Rezo sighed, shrugged inside the darkness, and cast his well-memorized spell that healed most generic forms of blindness—if never his own.

Warmth and light spread around him inside the jar, and for a moment his blank field of vision became a fusion of full and different light vying for power. Rezo didn't know how, but he knew that these richer patches of light were colors. Red and green battling. The green was losing.

Green. Fibrizo's eyes. Hadn't Fibrizo once spoken of his eyes? Green, he'd called them, and hated it, because green was red's opposite, father's opposite, Rezo's opposite. But he was getting used to it, he'd said. He was getting used to being his own person…

_Fibrizo!_

Rezo floundered around in his prison, toward the dying green. He left behind the sound of a healed blind child crying in joy; he left behind the sound of a village square crying out its thanks to the "holy jar;" after all he could not hear Zelgadiss, and he knew he was on the right track to freeing Fibrizo.

Abruptly, all went black again. Abruptly, the sounds of Outside ceased again. Abruptly, Rezo was alone again…

Not quite.

"Rezo. You've been out on your own long enough, don't you think? Hasn't it been long enough without your dream fulfilled? Let those people on the Outside worry about their own problems."

His voice again, not his voice again.

Oh. Of course.

"…Shabranigdo," Rezo stated. He wanted to strike himself across the face for his absurd congeniality in saying That Name. "So you _are _in here. Mm. Sure you are. You were part of me when I made this vessel. So you're in here with that part of me, in the past, still."

"Of course. And apparently, you're still as …creative as ever. As sharp. But you did make one stupid assumption: that I'd merely let you steal away my most powerful servant without any discussion of the matter."

"I realize what he is." Rezo tried to move, and found he could not. "And I'm not changing that…I…only want him to feel accepted in his own skin. To have some…wiggle room."

"Your human sentimentality has no place in the life and culture of monsters. Ours is a way of life far older than yours. Do not meddle. Do not interfere. How many times have I told you, Rezo? _Do not interfere_."

"In _what_?" The Red Priest snapped. He was feeling inordinately feisty, all of a sudden. "Oh, I see. Leave the Outside world be, but let _you_ be reborn into it. _Again_."

"…You have spoken to Xelloss."

"Oh, don't fret. Your Lesser Beast didn't give up your ghost. He chocked it all up to a 'secret,' per usual. No, Shabranigdo. I figured it out for myself. I _do_ have my _own_ will and sentience in here _somewhere_, believe it or not."

"Evidently. But it's not nearly strong enough. You are _not _your great-grandson, as you yourself have realized. You are _weak_ and you are _still hungry_. Still hungry for _That One Thing. _And I can still give it to you."

Rezo ground his teeth until he tasted blood. He'd bitten his tongue again. "Oh?" he croaked. The drug, the drug. Being dealt out to him again.

"Mm hmm, indeed. If you leave Fibrizo in here. No matter what you have put into his head, he will come back to me in the end. Fibrizo is more trouble than he is worth—and so is that ungrateful brat, your kinsman, who betrayed you for giving him the strength he _asked_ for."

"You know I let you twist his words inside my head, Shabranigdo. So that I'd turn him into that form that pains him so. So that you could drive a wedge between us and corrupt me faster. Don't try and dupe me again. Weak I may be, but not an idiot."

"Nevertheless. Leave them both be, and go back to sleep in here, with me, forever. Assimilate with the part of yourself already in here. Assimilate, Rezo, with _me_. Like the good old days. And then _you will see everything. Everything_, _Rezo_. Give me the last broken shards of your soul for that incredible power. You will heal more than one little blind boy with such power_. You shall have eyes that see_."

_Really_?

_Hah_.

Was that _all_ that Ruby-Eyes had to say?

Rezo was proud, ecstatic, with himself, because it took no time, no hesitation to form his retort.

He gave a fierce lunge against the molasses-like thing that clung to and trapped him.

And he roared, "_HA_! OH, dark lord, I never counted YOU for an imbecile, either! Did you _really_ think that these eyes of mine were all I cared about—_still_?"

Silence. Seething, grave-like silence. A nerve had been struck. A bluff called.

It only made Rezo's head ring with a greater manic fervor, with the laser-clear certainty of his purpose.

No, indeed. Never again. Never again, Zelgadiss. I will never let you down again.

I'll die first.

"I have _grown_, Ruby-Eyes! Much has changed and there are things—people—that matter to me _more _than seeing! I see in _other_ ways."

"Silence, meddler."

"No, I'm sorry, but you see, I've shut up for you for _ages_. It's _your_ turn to shut up!"

"How DARE you…I could _crush_ you here and now, in this vessel that your own hands fashion—"

"OH NO you couldn't! My _SPIRIT_ sees with greater clarity now than eyes ever could—and I _know_ what you are up to! I know what you are up to by taking Fibrizo here!"

"…Explain, human who rejected me. Explain."

Rezo continued to writhe and lunge against the thing holding him, squelching and strangling him. He would not let it win. He felt his bonds giving way, the slightest bit. He spoke.

"It's in the essence of being a demon. To _arrest development_. To _deny change and growth._ To deny life itself, which has change, cycling, rebirths and evolving, at its very core. Why, think of it. For example!"

Writhe, twist.

"Your northernmost retainer Dynast Grausherra holds Lei Magnus, in whose body is another seventh of your soul, in an icy coffin which Ceiphied fashioned, but which Dynast uses to his own ends. Lei is suspended forever in a doorway between living and breathing his last."

Struggle, twist.

"Fibrizo's jar, in which your most awakened conscience now resides, has the power to displace souls and trap bodies in crystal—thanks to my own horrible experiments. And so your most devout retainer, Fibrizo himself, has that power. It is the _same thing_."

Twist, reach.

"A prison of unchanging, stilted growth. A resistance to the catalysis of new relationships and heightened perspectives. Demons _resist_ love, even its very utterance, because _love_ is such a catalyst of change and growth. But here is the monkey wrench…"

Reach, reach. Break free.

"I will free Fibrizo. _I will enable that he grows_. Because I have adopted him."

"Foolishness. And what of the _Most _Important Person? Hm? What of 'your boy' Zelgadiss? Because I shall bring him to me next. _And he will hurt in ways you could not imagine._ I will tell him _everything_. And you know what I mean by that."

Rezo nearly balked, but pressed on. "I…will find a way to free my boy as well. That is what this fantastical prison is, that you have us stuck in. This prison is reliving that single moment in the past which stunts our growth. I had thought Ash—Flagoon's spirit—had seen to breaking us free permanently. But it seems you want us tested _again_, to thwart us for good. You want me to join the split-off piece of my soul in that accursed jar for that reason as well."

He ran his fingers through his hair. Serendipity kept pouring out his lips.

"My gods, and you even _let _Fibrizo resurrect _me,_ the me that's NOT in that jar, even _encouraged _that he do so, because you believed I would _fail_ to break him free of you. Because you thought I'd _leave _him, and he'd despair, or I'd _join you_ in that jar, become one with the rest of my soul, which you yet command, and he'd no longer serve two fathers. Am I right?"

"You are right."

The bridge of Rezo's nose curled. "Then, Shabranigdo, for the moment I must _decline _your invitation to squash myself into a piece of crockery. You already destroyed _enough_ of my soul as is."

"…Ahhh, Rezo. Now I remember why you were so difficult to engulf. It took twice the effort to rebirth my soul inside you that it took inside Luke and Lei, because _you_ have the queerest need to go on living and serving _others_. When one focuses so much on the well-being of living things _beyond_ himself, it is hard to ensnare and assimilate him. And you thought you were 'worthless,' that your miracles were so 'paltry.' Idiot, Ceiphied would disagree. Ceiphied would be delighted. Congratulations on being a _pain in my ass_." The voice scoffed.

"Thank you," Rezo said through his teeth. His blind eyes glittered with rebellion. "No higher compliment have I ever received, ma-oh."

"Indeed. Then may the strongest of our two wills prevail."

Hot flaming red coals flared up around Rezo. He moaned quietly and felt as if his eyeballs, his skin, his veins were on fire. But still he resisted.

"Oh, it shall, in the end," he pledged. "Now. To business?"

"Certainly. But here is the caveat, Rezo. In order to free Fibrizo, _you_ must stay here, inside this jar which you fashioned long ago. You must, as you put it, squash yourself into this piece of crockery."

Rezo froze.

"Forever."

"….I…"

"Why so glum? It's only alchemical, is it not? The Law of Equivalent Exchange, and all that nonsense you humans put stock in. Oh, and Rezo. I may have forgotten to mention this. But there is no way you'll get to Zelgadiss in time, either, if I expel you from this jar. I'll get to him too. _Unless you stay here_."

Devastation. The collapse of everything. The end of all things. But Rezo only indulged in being crushed for a handful of heartbeats. What had to be done, had to be done. Here, as many times before, Rezo knew the ends justified the means, just a little tiny bit.

"Very well," he whispered. "…but give me Fibrizo first."

"Excellent," Shabranigdo leered. "A real deal with the devil, once more, eh, Rezo?" He gave a pitiless, rumbling laugh, which shook Rezo to his core.

"Just stop your gloating, you filth, and let me have him."

"Reach into the crystal set before you. Fibrizo's body and his soul are sealed inside. If you can get him to take your hand, and step out, you shall free him."

Rezo reached his hand into the crystal—cruelly akin to the crystals in which he'd arrested Taforashia to slumber for his experiments. The hard surface gave way under the sheer force of his will. "Fibrizo…come," he calmly intoned.

His eyes, his eyes, his eyes. They burned. But he had to do this. He had to see this through.

A small, clammy hand brushed his. Five fingers wrapped around his pinkie.

"Yes, Fibrizo," Rezo urged. "That's right…come out. Open your eyes and…and see. Come out and live."

No response.

"You're scared, I bet…me too. Because…things change and things are lost when you live, and invest yourself in the happiness of others…but…but that's okay…some things are never lost…"

Rezo's thoughts went to Zelgadiss then. To the feel of his boy's face. To that anchor, which was always good, always. Even if he'd never see it again. Even if Zelgadiss hated his guts. His hand would always remember that face. That goodness would always exist.

"Even if you hurt and betray and leave behind those things, they have a way of healing, and growing, and thriving anyway. Change is that cruel and kind inevitability—but we can still…we can still be sure of a few good things."

The fingers squeezed his pinky.

"Come out, Fibrizo. Please. Come out and live, and grow. Please prove me right…I need the faith to go on and save somebody else too."

I need to save Zelgadiss.

"Fibrizo, please. For me."

A tiny voice rasped, "I want to come out and stay with Rezo…for a little while."

Rezo felt an incredible pressure on his hand then, coming not from Fibrizo but from their trapper. Shabranigdo was pressing down on Rezo's hand and crushing it, with a vile, crustacean-like appendage. "Stay. Sleep. Where you are safe and unthinking and where nothing ever changes. Stay frozen, Fibrizo, Rezo."

"No, I…" Five more fingers closed around Rezo's ravaged hand. "I…think… I think I want to go with Rezo, now."

"Remember, Fibrizo," Rezo shouted, over a sudden roaring in his ears, all around, as Shabranigdo closed in on him, and he threw caution to the wind: "Remember I _trust_ you! _Let's grow together_!"

And Fibrizo stepped out of the crystal in which he was entrapped, in the myriad patches of darkness inside the Hellmaster's Jar.

"Goodbye, Fibrizo," Rezo breathed—smiling, smiling even as tears made his aching eyes sting more.

And Shabranigdo engulfed Rezo, every piece of Rezo, entirely. It was like an oil slick swallowing a vibrant red-hued bird lighting on its surface, into its depths. Rezo was gone.

"What? NO—" Fibrizo tried to scream it…but he didn't have the time. The darkness dissipated.

Fibrizo was already…outside. Lying inside a titanic crater in the earth.

Outside the jar. In Sairaag.

…_How_?

Fibrizo sat up, trembling, confused, and terrified. His hands ran along the surface of his body. Something was different.

He was…_bigger_. He'd grown…at least several inches. He'd _grown_.

"Rezo?" the Lord of Hell bleated, looking around Sairaag: seated in the crater where he had died at the hands of the Lord of Nightmares Herself. With eyes like green saplings: new, fresh. Reborn. Fibrizo was still a demon. Hungry for the darker tastes of human suffering. And yet something had changed forever in him, because Rezo had shown him an alternative path to existence.

Fibrizo's eyes fell on the place where Flagoon had been: and speaking of saplings, the most fragile imaginable had sprouted there, from where Pokota had planted it. "Glad you're back, Mr. Fibrizo," Ash's voice gently carried to the Hellmaster's ears, on a warm breeze. The voice was coming from the sapling. "I hope that means Sir Rezo is succeeding!"

"I…I dunno," Fibrizo stammered. "I think so…I grew, right? So I hope so…they don't gift-wrap hope, but I hope so. Rezo said he stole hope but he gave me hope…he…he…he's staying in my jar…for me…and for Zelgadiss…"

"We'll see how accurate that assessment is, Lord Hellmaster." With his typical penchant for entrances that maximized chaos and alarm, there was Xelloss, appearing suddenly next to the Flagoon-sapling.

For some reason, the Lesser Beast chose not to stomp out that sapling with his staff. Instead he brushed some hair behind his ear, and smiled at Fibrizo. "All I mean is, Lord Ruby-Eyes is probably a bit vexed at you, and it's highly probable that he's going to be resurrected tonight."

Fibrizo made a strangled sound, and hugged himself. "H-h-how?"

"Well, by the corrupt piece of your adopted Rezo fusing with Lord Ruby-Eyes—and tricking Prince Pokota into giving his body up, of course! Lord Ruby-Eyes is a bit of a body-snatcher, after all."

"Then…"

"Listen, milord." Xelloss's smile tightened and his eyes snapped open. "This is the _last_ time I'm able to keep people abreast of developments in the monster ranks: even fellow monsters in the higher-ups, like you. Here's the bottom line: Lord Ruby-Eyes _is_ going to be resurrected tonight, outside of Vezendi. Go into hiding and, if you feel like being a little treasonous again, pray to L-Sama that Rezo Greywers, who is in that jar in his _entirety_ now, can think of a way to _prevent_ that resurrection. Keep Lina Inverse in your thoughts, as well: she tends to find remarkable ways of thwarting those in our ranks. As for me, it's my duty to see that the resurrection runs smoothly. So here we must part ways." And he disappeared on a roiling, turbulent black wind.

Fibrizo whimpered. Fibrizo reminded himself to be strong, like Rezo, like Rezo who thought himself "weak." All relative, Fibrizo supposed. He crawled in the dirt on his knees over to the sapling of Flagoon: to greenness and newness and change. He curled up beside it, closed his eyes, and tried his best to do what he'd never done, and what Xelloss suggested.

He tried to pray that Rezo, and not Shabranigdo, would prove the stronger.


	16. Wait

**Chapter 15: Wait**

_(Author's note: brief and cathartic, and based almost directly on the last awful five minutes of Evolution-R episode 10. And here, ladies and gents, __**my fanfiction must pause until April**__,__**when Evolution-R has been released in its completion**__. The plot of this story will take one of two very divergent directions based on how things end. Hang tight with me and thanks for reading this far!)_

_"The winter here's cold, and bitter  
It's chilled us to the bone  
We haven't seen the sun for weeks  
To long too far from home  
I feel just like I'm sinking  
And I claw for solid ground  
I'm pulled down by the undertow  
I never thought I could feel so low  
Oh darkness I feel like letting go_

_If all of the strength and all of the courage  
Come and lift me from this place  
I know I could love you much better than this  
Full of grace  
Full of grace  
My love_

_So it's better this way, I said  
Having seen this place before  
Where everything we said and did  
Hurts us all the more  
Its just that we stayed, too long  
In the same old sickly skin  
I'm pulled down by the undertow  
I never thought I could feel so low  
Oh darkness I feel like letting go_

_If all of the strength  
And all of the courage  
Come and lift me from this place  
I know I could love you much better than this  
Full of grace  
Full of grace  
My love"_

_~Sarah McLachlan_

**~*The evening that Zelgadiss confronts the Hellmaster's Jar*~**

Another, far worse, battle, which had nothing to do with magical explosions or archaic incantations, was raging far from Sairaag.

"There is no cure anywhere in this world to reverse the chimera process."

_Did I say that? Yes, I did but…is that even accurate…? Why did I…?_

Zelgadiss was screaming.

Screaming and screaming and screaming and calling Rezo a bastard. The screams were commands and pleas all at once. The sound of hope ripped asunder.

It was awful. Rezo felt damned to hell just listening to it.

It had something to do with that one wonderful, awful word: _CURE_. But…

Oh gods, why was Zelgadiss screaming like that, and why couldn't Rezo reach him?

Like ever before. Like that day Lina Inverse had last slain Shabranigdo, and Rezo had opened his eyes and helped her.

Zelgadiss, crying his name over and over. In faith. In what little faith he'd had left for Rezo.

Like when Zelgadiss called Rezo's name, in the jar, earlier today. And only Zelgadiss could awaken Rezo. Only Zelgadiss.

Yet now something was different. Something very important was missing.

That faith was gone now.

Gone.

The month of healing and trust regained, of memories cradled…unraveling.

And Zelgadiss's screaming was pain itself made into noise.

And Rezo could do nothing. Nothing. Because he'd had no choice but to submit himself to the jar, to keep everyone safe…and yet what of Shabranigdo's resurrection? Surely it had not been this simple to prevent it. Surely something worse was still coming.

Still, could anything possibly be worse than hearing his boy in such unbearable—

"REZO, you BASTARD! _AHHHGH_!"

_Oh Zelgadiss, why are you screaming like that, and why can't I just make it all better? _

"REZO!"

_My boy. I'm still here. Do you hate me now?_

"REZO, YOU BASTARD, YOU BASTARD, YOU _FUCKING BASTARD_!"

_No, wait. I know. I know I am. Weak and dirty. Didn't I say I was? Please wait. _

"REZO! I'LL BREAK YOU NOW!"

_Wait. My boy. I love you. Wait. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. _

"I'LL BREAK THIS THING!"

_Or maybe that's as it should be…won't Shabranigdo die, too, if I die? Won't we BOTH vanish?_

_But still…before that comes to pass…_

"DON'T ANY OF YOU TRY TO STOP ME! LINA, YOU GET BACK! GOD DAMN IT, POKOTA, I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR COUNTRY! YOU STAY BACK TOO! I'LL BREAK THIS JAR NOW!"

_Whatever I did, whatever he made me do. Whatever Ruby-Eyes made me do, all those filthy things, it was always my fault for being selfish and letting him. It was never your fault, my boy, and always mine. All of it. I love you, I love you. You were more than enough to make me happy for a lifetime. _

_Why didn't I see THAT? I didn't need eyes to see that. _

_And why won't I ever get a chance to say this to your face? _

_It would help you so much if I could. It would help you so much. _

_Well. If that's true, then I've got to at least try. _

_Here I go. _

Rezo heaved in the darkness, and gave a mighty shove. The thing that was strangling him let go. Just long enough. He pressed his hands to the inside of his ceramic prison. He pressed against warmth on the other side, where he knew Zelgadiss's hands clutched the vessel that Fibrizo had made.

With all his heart and soul, every broken piece, he willed Zelgadiss to hear, to understand.

_Zelgadiss. _

_I am honored by you loving me. _

_I never deserved your love, but you gave it to me anyway. _

_You are my reason. _

You_ do _me_ the honor. _

_You. _

_So please. I love you. Wait. _

And that was when, in the dark world outside, with the dazzling diamond stars, the cold, shrill, too-clear night outside the Hellmaster's Jar…

… something made Zelgadiss, who had been so ultimately betrayed, _hesitate _to throw the vessel to the earth. He _hesitated _to banish Rezo's soul forever.

He held the jar aloft, frozen. And he began to lower his arm.

Rezo felt something lift from his throat then, some noose. He forced out aloud, "Now you know…aren't you going to destroy me? What are you waiting for, Zelgadiss?" He smiled and wept inside the ceramic prison of his own making. "Do it."

Y_es, do it. I'll die, but so will this monster in here with me. _

_For good._

_And you'll be free. You won't be like me anymore. _

_You'll see past your cure, Zelgadiss. Because you were always better than me that way. Always._

_Lie to him again._

_LIE. Make him do it faster. _

_There is no greater love than self-sacrifice…yes...lie..._

"There's no cure. Didn't you hear me the first time? Not even in the Claire Bible."

_Yes, good, mention the Claire Bible. That'll make it sound more plausible._

"What are you waiting for? There is no cure. Throw me in the ocean—I can't help you."

_Oh, Zelgadiss, forgive me for this lie, to keep you and this world safe. But you'll start afresh now, right? You'll grow past it. You'll LIVE._

But even then, caught emitting inhuman moans and coarse sobs, Zelgadiss hesitated.

It might have all ended there, peacefully.

But then there was Pokota, who had lost everything, and who had been told by Rezo's voice just how and why he had lost. Pokota was beyond consolation.

So Pokota shrieked with the anguish of his entire lost civilization. And, looking both absurd and tragic in that little plush body, he drew his sword of light and lunged.

Zelgadiss cradled the Hellmaster's Jar…

And dodged.

Zelgadiss protected it. Protected…Rezo.

"He's human," Lina Inverse was saying of Zelgadiss, on the ground under them. "He's human so this is all hard…not simple. He may want to believe the awful things he's heard but he still has his doubts." And the sorceress frowned, turning to Ozer. She started catching on. Figuring it out. "And he's not the only one. Why did Rezo give you conflicting orders? To destroy the jar, and then to resurrect him? Why is he giving those same conflicting orders to Zelgadiss now?"

Ozer, her wooden face drawn, had no response for that.

But Pokota dove again. And this time he caught the Hellmaster's Jar. And this time he flew off with it, too.

Rezo felt the change of ownership at once.

_Wait…no wait_…

Rezo was falling asleep again. The thing that had strangled him, it still remained at bay. But he was draining…losing consciousness…going…because the person holding his jar right now wasn't his Reason. Wasn't his sun and anchor. Wasn't his blood. Wasn't his boy.

He heard his voice talking to the hysterical prince of Taforashia. But _he_ wasn't uttering those words…someone _else_ was. Promising Pokota's country a cure if Pokota gave "Rezo" his human body, which after all, was the "only" body into which "Rezo's" soul could be successfully transferred.

The thing that had been strangling him. The severed-off piece of him, which cohabited with….

Shabranigdo.

And suddenly Shabranigdo's servant Xelloss was there too, somewhere far above them, hovering.

Crooning, trilling, weaving a web of manipulations. Forcing Pokota to his knees in despair. Talking to, and about, the Other Rezo, the Past Rezo, the Rezo in the Jar. To and about Shabranigdo. Xelloss, fulfilling his "assignment."

"_When you leave for Vezendi_," Xelloss had forewarned, "_remember, thereafter, you and I will be deadly enemies_."

Because Xelloss and the monster race were trying to resurrect Shabranigdo…

_In Pokota_.

"Wait…don't listen…no, that's not…me…oh gods…" And it came to Rezo then, even stronger than before.

He really had to die.

He had to die to kill Shabranigdo, to keep the world safe from him.

Again.

He had to lie, and say horrible cruel things. He had to make Zelgadiss and Pokota both want to destroy him even more. He had to die. He smacked the inner walls of his prison, and began begging the same lies, with a greater fervor. "Get RID of me then…_get rid of me_! I DON'T KNOW ANY CURE. ZELGADISS?! DON'T WAIT, JUST GET RID OF ME. I CAN'T HELP YOU ANWAY! I CAN'T HELP YOU ANYWAY! POKOTA! I EXPERIMENTED ON THEM! LISTEN, _I DID IT_. _I DESERVE TO DIE_. THROW ME INTO THE OCEAN, _WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR_?"

_Kill us, please_. _Kill us._

Shabranigdo laughed somewhere in the darkness, pitilessly, in Rezo's voice. Shabranigdo parroted Rezo's testimony, some of it false, some of it true, some of it exaggerated for effect, calmly, coldly, in Rezo's voice. Zelgadiss was screaming some more, and Pokota was sobbing. All hope gone, replaced by desolation and desperation.

Maybe it had done the trick. Maybe Rezo would die now, and Shabranigdo with him. Good…good. Then perhaps Rezo wasn't damned after all.

Rezo wanted to say goodbye, and Rezo wanted Zelgadiss to know, somehow, at some point, what he had sacrificed that the world might go on and hope.

But mostly, he wanted his boy to know that he had made that sacrifice not for the world: but for Zelgadiss.

Because after all, for Zelgadiss, he would do anything. For that kind and innocent and hopeful face, for that giving and trusting soul, that he wanted so badly to recover.

He was so tired, but he tried to force out the only four words that mattered: "Zelgadiss…I love…y…"

But that was when darkness enveloped him completely.

****************************************************

_"Can't see nothin' in front of me  
Can't see nothin' coming up behind  
I make my way through this darkness  
I can't feel nothing but this chain that binds me  
Lost track of how far I've gone  
How far I've gone, how high I've climbed  
On my back's a sixty pound stone  
On my shoulder a half mile line_

_Come on up for the rising  
Com on up, lay your hands in mine  
Come on up for the rising  
Come on up for the rising tonight_

_Left the house this morning  
Bells ringing filled the air  
Wearin' the cross of my calling  
On wheels of fire I come rollin' down here_

_Come on up for the rising  
Come on up, lay your hands in mine  
Come on up for the rising  
Come on up for the rising tonight_

_Spirits above and behind me  
Faces gone, black eyes burnin' bright  
May their precious blood forever bind me  
Lord as I stand before your fiery light_

_I see you Mary in the garden  
In the garden of a thousand sighs  
There's holy pictures of our children  
Dancin' in a sky filled with light  
May I feel your arms around me  
May I feel your blood mix with mine  
A dream of life comes to me  
Like a catfish dancin' on the end of the line_

_Sky of blackness and sorrow (a dream of life)  
Sky of love, sky of tears (a dream of life)  
Sky of glory and sadness (a dream of life)  
Sky of mercy, sky of fear (a dream of life)  
Sky of memory and shadow (a dream of life)  
Your burnin' wind fills my arms tonight  
Sky of longing and emptiness (a dream of life)  
Sky of fullness, sky of blessed life (a dream of life)_

_Come on up for the rising  
Come on up, lay your hands in mine  
Come on up for the rising  
Come on up for the rising tonight"_

_~Bruce Springsteen_


	17. Resurrection

**Chapter 16: Resurrection**

**(Author's note: Compassion is the single greatest human impulse. Please, please, I implore the reader. **

**Pity this man about whom I write. **

**Pity the real type of person whom he represents: a human being with an impaired body and a heart that always longed to do more than that body allowed. **

**Evils committed under this premise _cannot_ be condoned, _but_ the mind, the motives, and the dreams of someone so trapped and once so driven by kindness ought to be forgiven. Have compassion for this man; he is suffering too, and your compassion for him does not diminish your compassion for his former victims. **

**Pity Rezo, who has in him, the broken pieces not devoured by Shabranigdo, a kind and loving soul. **

**That's all I ask. It's my last plea. I intend to give this story a happy ending, regardless of what the thirteenth and final episode of Slayers Evolution-R shows (or omits). Join me, please.)**

******************************************************************

_"The whole thing was sort of funny, in a way, if you thought about it…I laughed. I have one of these very loud, stupid laughs. I mean if I ever sat behind myself in a movie or something, I'd probably lean over and tell myself to please shut up…the part that got me was, there was this lady sitting next to me that cried all through the goddamn picture. The phonier it got, the more she cried. You'd have thought she was kindhearted as hell, but I was sitting right next to her, and she wasn't. She had this little kid with her that was bored as hell and had to go to the bathroom, but she wouldn't take him. She was about as kindhearted as a goddamn wolf…_

"_I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, except nobody's around—nobody big, I mean, except me. And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff…I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I'd do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye…I know it's crazy. I know it's crazy…_

"_I went down a different staircase, and I saw another 'fuck you,' on the wall. I tried to rub it out with my hand again, but this one was scratched on, with a knife or something. It wouldn't come off. It's hopeless, anyway. If you had a million years to do it in, you couldn't even rub out half the 'fuck you' signs in the world. It's impossible."_

_~Holden Caulfield, in J.D. Salinger's Catcher in the Rye _

"_There are no such things as great deeds: only small deeds done with great love." ~Mother Theresa _

_"I am not sure that I understand these things called humans at all anymore." ~Rezo_

_***************************************************************_

**~*The night that Taforashia reawakens.*~**

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE

THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON

THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON

THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON

THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON

THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON

THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON

THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON

THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON

**STOP ME I CAN SEE THE MOON** STOP ME STOP ME STOP ME I CAN SEE STOP ME I CAN SEE

**NEVER ENOUGH** NEVER ENOUGH **I COULD NEVER DO ENOUGH **I COULD NEVER DO ENOUGH

**I WAS NEVER ENOUGH** I WAS NEVER ENOUGH **SO I WANTED TO SEE YOU KNOW I WANTED **

**TO SEE SEE SEE SEE SEE SEE SEE I WANTED TO BE WHOLE I WANTED TO BE CLEAN I **

**DIDN'T WANT TO BLOCK OUT THE SUN I DIDN'T WANT TO BE BLACKNESS I DIDN'T WANT**

**TO BE THE VESSEL OF FILTH I DIDN'T WANT TO BE FILTH I DIDN'T WANT TO BE INSUFFICIENT**

**I DIDN'T WANT ANYONE TO DIE WHEN MY HANDS WERE NEAR BUT THEY DIED AND DIED AND DIED **

**AND I COULDN'T SEE AND I COULDN'T SEE AND I COULDN'T SEE AND THEN I FOUND MY WAY AND **

**I MURDERED AND I PLAYED AND I TRIED TO BE THE EXALTED THING YOU ALL PUSHED ME UP **

**INTO BEING AND IT WAS NEVER POSSIBLE IT WAS NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN AND I BROKE AND **

**I BROKE AND I BROKE AND I BLOCKED OUT THE SUN AND I WENT INTO LABOR AND OUT CAME **

**A DEMON LORD AND NOW WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE** WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE _**STOP ME**_ STOP ME STOP

ME STOP ME I CAN SEE I CAN SEE AND THAT'S BAD THAT'S VERY BAD BECAUSE **HE'S HERE TOO HE'S HERE TOO **

STOP ME STOP ME I CAN SEE THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON

I CAN SEE THE MOON I CAN SEE _**BLEEDING BLEEDING I CAN SEE MAKE ME STOP OH GOD NO OH GOD **_

_**YES OH GOD NO OH GOD YES OH GOD IT'S BEAUTIFUL BUT IT'S BAD OH GOD LINA INVERSE KILL**_

_**ME LINA INVERSE I'M WALKING TOWARD YOU AND HE'S MAKING ME BLOCK OUT THE LIGHT **_

_**THAT OUR CHILDREN WERE GOING TO DANCE IN OH GOD THE MIST OVER TAFORASHIA OH GOD **_

_**THE GENOCIDE THE PUDDLES OF VOMIT THE TAUT RAVAGED LIMBS THE BOILS AND BLISTERS**_

_**AN ENDLESS LINE OF THEM AND I COULD NEVER CURE THEM ALL AND NOW I CAUSED MORE DAMAGE **_

**_HOW COULD I HOW COULD I OH GOD _** **_DON'T THANK ME POKOTA DON'T THANK ME FOR POPPING _**

**_AND CLEANING OUT MY OWN BLEMISH _**_**MAKE ME STOP I DON'T WANT TO BE THAT PERSON **_

_**PLEASE KILL ME PLEASE STOP ME**_

_**HE'S IN ME HE'S IN ME STILL OH GOD SO BEAUTIFUL AND AWFUL I CAN SEE**__. _

I CAN SEE!

................

Zelgadiss. Ozer is dead, isn't she?

Well-done, Ozer. You weren't human, but you were a better human than I ever was.

Zelgadiss. It was fun to play together again for a while. When I was in Pokota's body and waking up Taforashia. It was fun to pretend this could have worked. It was fun to pretend our past could grow to a future, too, in Sairaag, in that silly decrepit inn, with you and Hellmaster Fibrizo fighting like siblings quarreling for father's favor. It was fun meeting your beloved Amelia and knowing the gestures and words and ways of your future wife, "Sir" Zelgadiss of Seyruun.

It was all so fun and real. And when I freed Fibrizo, I thought I could overcome Shabranigdo, inside that jar. But then the jar smashed, and it's like the darkness has never quite left me. I think HE is in me again. I think HE is waking up. I wish you had smashed the jar before it got to Pokota's body. I wish I had died then and not been the menace to Red Orb all over again. I'm so tired of being the bad guy because I'm weak.

_Am_ I so weak? I know I am. I think it always embarrassed you, but you took care of great-grandpa anyway.

Gods. I love you, my boy.

The words aren't coming, as I beat back that gleeful maniac Xelloss Metallium using HIS power, as I gaze at you over Lina Inverse's shoulder. YES GAZE. OH GOD. SUBLIME AND AWFUL. I DON'T DESERVE THIS. But I can think it.

I can remember and pretend for a minute that every good and true thing flooded with light and clarity in our past can see me through these last moments. I can remember.

When you were fourteen, you challenged me to drink a cup of that nasty brown drink of yours. You said I wouldn't be able to drink it without making a face. I tried and sure enough I grimaced. You laughed and laughed. It was worth it to hear that sound...

Backtrack ten more years...when you were four....a man tried to attack me because I didn't get to his village on time to save his daughter, and she passed away. You took out your little wooden toy broadsword and smacked that man on the leg and crotch and hindquarters because in your mind I needed protection.

You always saw me that way.

You loved me and you wanted to protect me.

It made me feel so grateful and so sad all at once.

I wanted so badly to ease that burden for you, so you didn't have to always see for me.

And it drove me to do unforgivable things.

But that's my sincerity....I'm paying you back for fifteen years of it. Of taking care of your great-grandpa. Please...I'm ME. JUST me. No one else in this body. Just know that, for five seconds, before the end. Just believe me.

Zelgadiss.

You're my cure. Being your Gramps was always the key.

So I will die cured.

.....

THE MOON. THE MOON THE MOON THE MOON. STOP ME. I CAN SEE.

HE'S COMING.


	18. Strength

**Chapter 17: Strength**

_(Author's note: There is a flashback of Rezo's childhood that has particularly sensitive adult content in it. Please be advised before reading. Thank you. )_

**~*After the Final Battle*~**

Two days passed after the final battle in Taforashia. Zelgadiss required that long to work up the nerve to go back to Sairaag and retrieve the Rezo whose soul had not been in the Hellmaster's Jar. Amelia, foreseeing somehow a tragedy, insisted on accompanying him, and they parted ways with Pokota, Xelloss, Gourry, and the silver-haired Lina.

So when they got to the inn and the innkeeper informed them that both Rezo and Ash had disappeared shortly after "that little black-haired green-eyed boy," Zelgadiss just felt his limbs go cold and tingly, and Zelgadiss just tore up the rickety stairwell to the room they'd left a month past, and Zelgadiss both knew and didn't know what he would find in that room.

Nothing, and no one.

Zelgadiss stared at the empty bed. No one had used that room in that inn since they had left it. There was the imprint of a tall lean body there still, on the old tatty mattress. Rezo's.

"He's…gone."

Amelia forced back tears and her plump little hands squeezed Zelgadiss's hard shoulders. "I'm so sorry," she choked out—knowing what it was to have lost family time and time again. "I guess…somehow, that part of Rezo ended up trapped in the Hellmaster's Jar, too."

"Correct." A new voice. And neither of them had to turn to recognize it. Their unexpected comrade in ending the apocalypse centered in Taforashia, who had shielded them numerous times with chunk after chunk taken out of his own body as punishment: Xelloss, the paradoxical villainous hero.

A soul is born BETWEEN light and darkness…

Maybe that was true of every soul.

Including Rezo's.

The enigmatic mazoku, who had, whether by orders or of his own volition, decided that resurrecting Shabranigdo in Taforashia was a bad idea after all—akin to letting the renegade retainer Gaav ramble about fused with a human—calmly elaborated: "In order to save the Hellmaster from the unstable shard of Lord Ruby-Eyes in that jar, your Rezo willingly sacrificed himself in Fibrizo's place, and became one with the piece of his soul fused with Lord Ruby-Eyes in the jar. He also did so for your sake, Mr. Zelgadiss, to try and convince you to break the jar before it could get to Prince Posel's human body…to save you from a world in which Lord Ruby-Eyes again rampaged. It seems that to Mr. Rezo you were…well, everything. Quaint, that."

Zelgadiss walked over to the bed where Rezo had last reposed, where the chimera had, in haste, refused to say a proper goodbye. For a moment he understood Rezo's blindness because he could not see through hot, angry tears of regret. _Scream, scream_. He just wanted to _scream_. For Gramps was gone _again_.

Amelia let him stand there in shellshock and desolation. She covered her face, feeling helpless to reach him in that moment.

Xelloss kept heartlessly prattling—or maybe he wasn't being heartless at all. With Xelloss, one never knew. "He was a tough old cookie, ne? Put up quite the fight when I attacked him." He whistled. "Although I somehow doubt any of that was Mr. Rezo. I somehow think he was anguished every moment of that resurrection. He went on and on about seeing the moon, didn't he? But there was more guilt there than pleasure. Maybe he wanted to just die. I guess you should ask Prince Posel that, since he's the one who talked to Rezo's soul just before it was released—"

Zelgadiss finally emitted his wordless scream of frustration. He attacked that god-damned bed that was cruel and evil and damnable for not having Rezo still lying in it, just harmlessly sleeping. That god-damned bed, he'd rip it, shred, it, bend and twist it, to pieces for that crime. And he did.

Amelia waited patiently for the tantrum to drain from Zelgadiss's system. And then she went to hold his head, while he knelt there, utterly spent.

"Yare, yare," breezed Xelloss, lip distantly, wryly, quirking. "Such despair. Is it necessary? I thought you couldn't stand the man."

"You go to hell," Zelgadiss rasped, holding onto Amelia's arms as though to keep his own soul anchored on earth. "You know better. You're not stupid. You've watched humans over a thousand years. You're not stupid!"

"Well, that is true," Xelloss consented, with a nod. "I've noticed you humans don't feel simply toward much of anything. I think that's as it should be. It certainly makes things more interesting."

"Mr. Xelloss," Amelia breathed, still cradling Zelgadiss's wirey head, "I'd appreciate it if you'd just leave now." Her dark cobalt eyes met Xelloss's sharp amethyst stare, fiercely.

The mazoku smiled impassively, with tepid dimples. He closed his eyes. Really, he had no further reason to stay. Except… "One last thing. Lord Hellmaster is indeed alive and well. You might not want to write him off just yet, for…various reasons."

"We'll keep that in mind," Amelia politely retorted. "Now, if you'd excuse us…"

"Certainly." And with a fizzling sound and a flamboyant array of magenta sparkles, Xelloss dissolved and disappeared.

A long silence followed. Zelgadiss ground his teeth and fought the blackness that crept into him. He found himself almost babbling, as if enough talking would pour the pain out of his heart before it settled in permanently and jaded him further:

"You know he once told me…that when he was a little boy, he felt like a freak. Then he made me a freak too. Why did he do that if he knew how it felt to…? Fuck, damn it, I _hate_ him….but you know, when he was like, seven, I guess, and in a boarding school for sorcerers, since his parents just left him for dead not wanting a _blind_ kid…yeah this one time when he was so depressed he couldn't lift his head off his lab table, and he'd taken some potion to make himself numb, and he was crying and I was like thirteen or fourteen, and sat with him so he wouldn't slit his damn wrists, he told me about this incident in his childhood….yeah, I said that already, when he was seven…sorry, it's hard to think right now, but when he was seven at that boarding school, I guess he accidentally took some kid's homework in a lab class, and wrote his own notes over it and made it illegible, because he was _blind _and couldn't tell that it wasn't HIS paper, and the teacher, since Rezo was the superior student, thought the _other_ kid was cheating, when really no one was cheating, it was just an innocent mistake on the part of the _blind_ kid…but yeah, no one believed it, and the headmaster had the other kid expelled….so I guess the other kid, who was like, a _lot _older than Rezo, and a lot bigger, got really pissed and was a real sicko, and got a gang of friends together and…I don't know if they like…gang-raped him or not, I don't think so, but I do know they cornered him in the school bathroom a couple of times and pulled down his pants and…stuck his head in an…unflushed…toilet…over and over….and they only stopped when he _begged_ them and promised he'd _heal_ the older kid's mother, who had some kind of terminal cancer…and he healed her alright, as a fucking SEVEN-year-old, heh, a _fucking PRODIGY_, right? And all the goddamn teachers PRAISED Rezo for saving this rich parent and school sponsor's life, and reinstated that sicko kid to the school…and the sicko kid left Rezo alone after that. And Rezo said to me, 'I decided then and there that I'd keep my worthlessness at bay by healing the masses, until I could find a cure for my worthless blindness. _I'd make people feel better so they'd forget I was worthless_.' And I just…sat there and…held him while he sobbed. Did I say I was like, fourteen when he told me that story? And I decided I'd be strong for him right then. Yeah. Anyway."

More silence. Amelia found herself caught somewhere between the thresholds of throwing up and weeping. The story was the epitome of "injustice."

"…Shit, I'm sorry. Why did I tell you that? But. So. I guess I can see why he was so fucked up and was ready to slice up the whole world to have his eyes opened," Zelgadiss concluded, with that beautiful and sad penchant to summate things and safely, numbly, logically categorize them. "It _doesn't_ make it _right, _how far he went with Shabranigdo inside him goading him to do so. But I guess I can see _why._ He thought it would save him, and everybody else, from…some kind of…suffering. Something. That kid in the bathroom. I wanted to hold him forever and make it okay. Fuck, I'm…weird. Forget it. Just a stupid memory. I'm fine."

"…Oh…Mr. Zelgadiss," Amelia bleated, "Mr. Zelgadiss, you really really loved him, and I think you should commemorate his passing somehow…"

"For what, Amelia?" Zelgadiss tore free of his lover's desperately comforting embrace, and turned blazing eyes on her. "The fact that I still have nightmares about the day he turned on me? Imagine it's Phil, Amelia. I know you have a modicum of understanding through your uncle and cousin. But see, those weren't your PARENT figure. Those weren't your number one caretakers. And you probably always knew something was fishy with them, right?"

He raked his stony fingers through his metallic hair, which sparkled like so many silver blades of grass in the light through the inn window. He began to pace to and fro.

" Imagine it's PHIL. Yes. Think about it. The guy you grew up shadowing. That's what it was for me. This was the person I trusted MOST. It's so hard NOW because it was so GOOD once. I went with him everywhere. And yes...yes, I...DID...feel the need to take care of him. He always had his damn head in the clouds. In his romantic philosophies and his ridiculous DRIVE to FIX the god-damn WORLD, because he was that kid in the bathroom. I had to bring him down to earth. _That was my job and I...I fucking LOVED it.._.."

His fingers balled in fists until they made a creaking, grinding sound.

"And then I'm in the forest swinging my sword over and OVER and thinking 'if I just do better, maybe he'll FINALLY be happy. He's always sad he can't see. ALWAYS down on himself because he can't see. If I just get a little stronger it'll make him HAPPIER. I'll be the cynical cold realist, the hard-nosed bastard, so that HE can stay soft and yielding in all the places he cherishes. I'LL DO THAT FOR REZO. REZO WITH HIS BEAUTIFUL SCARS, REZO MY GRAMPS AND MY SAINT.' And fucking HELL, THAT was when he snuck up and DID this to me. THIS."

He showed her his hands, as if she hadn't seen, kissed, cherished those hands, not caring about their hardness or coldness because those were HIS hands, for ages.

"You have to let that moment go, Zelgadiss," Amelia replied, dropping the honorific and pleading him with her eyes alone. "Let it go or you'll never grow past it. Do Rezo's memory that honor. He would want you to let it go--"

"LET IT GO?" He was infuriated. "He left me…HE LEFT ME. THAT STUPID OLD BASTARD LEFT ME AGAIN…!" He struck the wall with both fists. The damage was immediate; the wall creaked and groaned and cracked under impact. Zelgadiss stared at the results, suddenly frightened of his own bitterness. "…I'm going away for a while. Just a couple of weeks…I'll get a boat. Yeah. A boat. Maybe do some...cure research...I haven't given up on it yet. I'll be back. Please let me go alone, Ame."

Her lips thinned but her love could be best displayed only by allowing him the space and time to cope. "Alright," she said, lacing her pinky with his. "I'll be waiting for you in my pink dress. Your favorite."

He found the shredded up pieces of his hope and smiled. "Okay."


	19. Forgiven

**Chapter 18: Forgiven **

_(Author's note: An extensive quote of a wonderful character serendipity from the Evolution-R finale is needed as predicator to my final chapters. It paints Rezo in a far more positive light than I would have ever expected. Bravo, J.C. Staff! Here it is: )_

_Zelgadiss: "Wait, Rezo! Do you intend to resurrect Shabranigdo? In order to make your eyes see, you would make the same mistake?" _

_Rezo: "This is my fate, sooner or later. The Demon Lord's soul gathers power and begins to eat away at my soul again." _

_Zelgadiss: "Wait a minute! So then you _weren't_ seeking revenge against us, but wanted us to _destroy_ the Demon Lord sleeping inside you?" _

_Rezo: "I entrusted my fate to you. Do not think on it. Because of this I was able to see the light once more!"_

_Zelgadiss: "Rezo! You..!"_

_Rezo: "Now! Destroy the Demon Lord once more! I'm counting on you."_

_As Zelgadiss realizes and Xelloss subsequently explains: __In choosing to be resurrected, Rezo has chosen to die, sacrificing himself so that the "ghost" of Shabranigdo still joined with his soul will ALSO be eradicated.__ Rezo realizes that any other method, such as breaking the jar before a bodily resurrection, OR leaving the jar whose restraining magic would have worn down over time, would have been a risky process that allowed the "ghost" of Shabranigdo to run amok and unstoppable in the world. __Resurrection into a single body—Pokota's—and destruction by the Slayers was, thus, the ONLY way to beat Shabranigdo. __From the moment of his first death and entrance into the jar, to the use of Ozer to ensure a smooth resurrection, this, the protection of the world, was Rezo's true intent/motive. Therefore Rezo wished to "see the light one last time" as the CONSOLATION for his goal, NOT as the goal itself.__ The GOAL was__his own self-sacrifice,__which ensured that Shabranigdo would never again be resurrected__. __Thus if Rezo ever crossed a moral event-horizon, he has certainly come back across that threshold with this act of heroism.__ Astounding! _

_Add to this his second act of heroism, after the final battle:_

_Pokota's soul: "So this is the end, huh?"_

_Rezo's soul: "No. You shall remain." _

_Rezo's soul enables that Pokota's soul is spared and returns to Red Orb intact__._

_Lina: "Aren't parents and kids wonderful?" _

_Zelgadiss: "Yeah, that could be." _

_Amelia: "What about Lord Rezo?"_

_Zelgadiss: "…Yeah. It's fine." _

~Cited from Slayers Evolution-R Episode 13.

_Forgiveness is divine! _

_************************************************************_

Red red red red red red red hurt fear pain chaos make it end red red.

….white.

Cleansing.

Subsiding.

Absolution.

Freedom.

Choice. Yes. Now I can save them all. I choose it. I have chosen this path once again. I have chosen.

Now I die.

Farewell, my boy. Like the fool I am, when I realized Ruby-Eyes was in here with me and He was a ghost coming out unstoppable, when I decided I must die that He too would die, when I realized, "hey, why so glum, me, at least I'll see my beloved world again for a few seconds," I looked at the _moon_, bleated at the _moon_ like a newborn baby opening its eyes naked and cold and new, yes, I looked at the _moon_, instead of at _your _face. _Your_ face would have been even better. But I'm old and stupid and have been for some time now, right? Yes, I am.

Oh well. Hm yes. The moon is far less beautiful than my boy. But. You know. I didn't deserve to see my Sun and Reason again, anyway. I was once your Solar Eclipse, after all.

Do you remember the lock-picking, Zelgadiss, and the safe-breaking? Ha, yes, and the days we made meatloaf, always Sunday, the only dish I could make, I the culinary-challenged old geezer, and we mashed it up together and it was a great big delightful delicious mess on our hands and all over the kitchen….? Yes, and how about herbalist lessons…you were such a smart pupil. And all those times you raided bandits and stole bread for orphans for me. And the nights charting the stars. And your crazy antics with my gun experiments. And when you were tiny and had nightmares, and crawled into my arms at four on any given morning, and I held you, and didn't say that I had nightmares too, that us holding each other up against the pains and fears of life was all either of us needed. And when you were my hands and my eyes. Which was always, always. And the time you molded Braille fittings for my birthday, working all day long on my behalf, straining your hands and back and eyes over Rodimus's forge, for _me_, on YOUR birthday….?

I remember it all.

Live. Be _happy._ Be safe. _Move past me_. Live. _Live_. Remain.

For _this_, for _you_, my proof that human lives are not meaningless…

For this, now I die.

Hallelujah.

**~*One Month Later*~**

Zelgadiss was getting tired of sailing the perimeter of the mainland all by himself: even though he had expressly requested from Amelia the time to himself to absorb the events of the past couple of months.

He half–contemplated visiting the neighboring continent, the so-called "Outerworld," to drop in on the mace and vase shop of dragoness Filia Ul Copt. Maybe he'd tell her about how her grudging significant other, a certain violet-haired demon priest, had given the Slayers hell: and then saved their asses again, per usual, when it mattered. Yes, he nearly entertained the idea of doing Xelloss Metallium a favor.

Heh. Well. The philanthropic impulse _passed_.

After all, Xelloss was still a Claire Bible burning rat-bastard, even if he proved insanely useful in a pinch.

Like oh, say, the eve of world destruction being exacted by a renegade ghost of Shabranigdo….

_Feh_. Zelgadiss still wanted to punch out a good number of Xelloss's charming straight white fangs. And probably always would.

But the thoughts that lingered on the chimera's mind…those thoughts were far more haunting and somber than the pleasure of contemplating Xelloss's toothlessness.

For some reason, while gulls shrieked overhead, and the setting sunlight roiled on the ocean tide, and Zelgadiss steered the boat he'd borrowed from generous Prince Philionel toward port and home….he couldn't stop thinking about a strange day when he was very small, and had witnessed for the first time how difficult blindness was for Rezo. And his own desire to really know that difficulty: to empathize with it.

In fact, this was only one of many memories that forcibly flooded into Zelgadiss's brain of late: all about his dead kinsman. About whom he had proclaimed, partially lying, partially sincere, with a stiff upper lip, to Amelia, "it" was all "fine." Really "it" was his general sentiment about the late Rezo. It was not Zelgadiss's own emotional condition with regards to his still-missing cure, Rezo's hand in it, nor the ability to cope with Rezo's second shocking demise. That was messier. Messy in the league of sticking one's hands in a bowl of meatloaf…a meal which, incidentally, both Zelgadiss and Rezo had always enjoyed preparing and eating together. It was their weekend family activity, meatloaf.

Zelgadiss never ate meatloaf after he turned fifteen and, at the hands of Rezo, was…

Well. After that moment when everything changed. That moment over which Zelgadiss still obsessed. That moment that even Amelia begged him to let go. Not yet!…not yet.

Rezo. Suddenly gone. Damn him. A rug yanked out from under Zelgadiss's sense of past, safety, and certainty: just like the first time Gramps had died to remove Shabranigo's threat from Red Orb.

Zelgadiss really. Really. REALLY. Hated Shabranigdo. Now more than ever. Shabranigdo who had gnawed and gnawed at Gramps, the real parasite, Rezo's own hell and cross to bear in torturous secrecy. A part of Zelgadiss wished he could know if Gramps _telling _him about Shabranigdo being inside him, hurting him day after day, would have made any difference. Probably not…but Zelgadiss still felt so robbed of his usefulness when he thought back on Rezo this way. Like somehow he had failed the Red Priest, even though he knew now that Rezo would have gently scolded him for even momentarily thinking this way. Yes, in the end, Rezo took all the blame on himself, and "counted on" Zelgadiss and the other Slayers to kill him…and kill Shabranigdo.

But the memory…that particular day…still it lingered. Stronger and weaker, then still stronger each time it came back to the chimera, like the tide itself as a storm approached.

On the birthday on which Rezo had evidently purchased him the pink teddy bear that he had never received…it had been a day later, the source of this unstoppable wave of memory. Zelgadiss came downstairs in Rezo's mansion of the time the next day to balloons and festive house-mates…and no Rezo. He snuck into the kitchen, because he heard a peculiar scraping sound. Well a scraping and a rubbing sound, really.

In the kitchen, on his knees, knee deep in frosting and spattered cake guts…was Rezo.

Rezo had been preoccupied mixing some salve for a house-caller with a skin disease, Zolf whispered in Zelgadiss's ear. He'd been spatially disoriented by his task. And he consequently bumped into the kitchen table, with Zelgadiss's belated seventh birthday cake on it. The cake had fallen onto the floor. And Rezo was trying to clean it up. Rezo: embarrassed, and guilty, for an honest mistake, for an ailment he couldn't help having, knelt in a degrading messed-upon position on the floorboards: cleaning cake up with his bare hands, which were getting all scratched up, a garbage bag, and a big soup ladel that the Red Priest had desperately fished out of a nearby drawer.

It had killed Zelgadiss to see this. A cake was replaceable, even to a seven-year-old. The pride of his beloved great-grandfather was not. The Red Priest, the sage, the Great Healer, was not meant to kneel in food-mush and clean up what he hadn't intentionally caused.

Back then, Rezo _did_ clean up the messes he made, and then some. And then some.

Zelgadiss had rushed into the room and hugged Rezo's head in his tiny arms, getting smeared with cake and not giving a damn. He'd begged Gramps to stop, not to worry. He'd said, "Gramps, if you want, I'll squeeze my eyes shut forever so that you and I can both be blind."

This had made Rezo cry. Hard. Saying he was sorry, over and over, and begging Zelgadiss never to wish to understand what it was to be blind. "Never, my boy, please."

"Fine," Zelgadiss had stubbornly countered. "Then I'll go make you Braille labels for everything in the kitchen, so this never happens again or makes you feel bad."

Rezo blew his nose on a napkin and stood up and tried to assure Zelgadiss that this, too, was unnecessary: that today was not Rezo's birthday, but Zelgadiss's.

Zelgadiss had retorted that he _liked_ helping Gramps, and if it was _his_ birthday, then he could do whatever the _hell_ he _wanted_.

Gramps had said, "Don't say hell, you're only seven," and then Zelgadiss had grinned impishly and shouted "HELL," and then they both had laughed and laughed.

Zelgadiss had made those Braille labels with Rodimus's help, at the forge. At the end of the day he got to hammer them into every piece of furniture in the kitchen. By then Rezo had another cake baked and they celebrated Zelgadiss's seventh birthday with all the jolliness that could be fit into one evening.

To this day it was still the best birthday Zelgadiss ever spent.

Gods. Why such a bittersweet memory, now? Why _now_, when he needed his numbness?

"What are you spacing out for?" A child's voice. But somehow snider.

Zelgadiss gasped and whirled around, turning the steering wheel with him, and causing the little boat to turn sharply starboard.

Hellmaster Fibrizo, clutching a potted tree sapling in his arms, fell splaying across the deck. He sat up, green eyes glittering spitefully. "I should bust your soul for that." He wriggled his nose. "But…Rezo never liked it when I tried to. So I won't."

Zelgadiss gawked. "You…you really _are _alive." He stepped cautiously toward the inconceivably unexpected visitor. "What're you _doing_ here, Fibrizo?"

Then he remembered Xelloss's words of a month past: _Don't write the Hellmaster off just yet, for various reasons. _

Great. What were "various reasons?"

The demon lord broke the awkward, tense silence by handing the sapling in his arms to Zelgadiss. He tossed his mop of inky hair like a self-conscious preteen. "Here. It's Ash. He wanted to come with me and say hi, too. He said you'd believe me better if he did come."

_Oh boy_.

"….Hi?" Zelgadiss ventured.

The sapling quivered a little. "Hello, Master Zelgadiss!" It was indeed the Flagoon spirit's affable boom, emanating from the air in the vicinity of the little sprig of green. "It may be hard to believe, but listen to Fibrizo. He has a proposition to make."

_Ohhhh boy_.

"…_Do_ tell." Zelgadiss's gaze couldn't have grown flatter.

Fibrizo appraised Zelgadiss imperiously. He stalled a bit cruelly, skipping like a hopscotch player to the edge of the deck. He glanced into the shimmering waters. "Like the Golden Sea of Chaos," he mumbled. "Is he there now? I wonder if he thinks he's drowning, like I did…"

"What?" the chimera snapped.

"Nothing. I want to tell you about rainbows, Stalactite Boy."

_Does not compute. _

"…I beg your pardon? And _don't_ call me Stalactite Boy."

"It was something Rezo and I were talking about after you'd yelled at him and he was all sad." Fibrizo informed Zelgadiss almost boastfully. "He said he didn't deserve to see, so he wanted me to draw stuff on his hand so he could try and imagine it. I told Ash all about it the other day, and he said I should come find you and tell you too."

Zelgadiss ground his jaw. "Spectacular," he growled. "But _why_?"

"Xelloss told me what happened. You know. In that city with the people sleeping because of my jar. Rezo told me about that a while ago, you know. Anyway. Before you go home, you need to make a detour. I'm not gonna _make_ you. But. I think you'll _want_ to after I explain rainbows to you the way I did to Rezo."

"FINE. Spit it out, then. And damned if I'm going _anywhere _that Shabranigdo's god-damned children tell me to go." Zelgadiss's hatred, his pure raw smoldering hatred, gnawing at his core, for the ma-oh and his servants, who had tormented his family and robbed him of Rezo forever, flared, alongside his blood pressure. It was so potent it nauseated him.

"You'll change your mind," Fibrizo retorted confidently. He trotted over to where Zelgadiss stood. He put a small hand—still missing one of his gold bangle bracelets, which he had sacrificed to Rezo on the Red Priest's birthday—on the wheel. Over Zelgadiss's. "Don't go into port at Seyruun just yet."

A battle of wills.

"I said to spit it out. That wasn't a suggestion. It was an _order_."

Fibrizo grinned. "I'm under your skin. Okay. Here goes. So Rezo was sitting there on his bed. And he said, 'Fibrizo, I love the idea of rainbows. Promises kept, something intangible yet visible...such a thing must itself be a miracle.' And I said, I didn't know much about human things like that, but I guessed he was asked me to draw a rainbow on his hand. I said I'd try. I said I'd try to explain it so he'd understand colors and people, and I was learning it too, we were learning it together. I like Rezo, you know. Rezo is kind to me. I miss Rezo. So I did my best.

"So I made an arc for red first, on top. And I said, 'That's red. That's you. You're the top one and you get to hug all the rest. Rezo liked that. He started to smile kinda shyly when I said that.

"Next I drew orange and I said, 'That's... um... how 'bout that's fire, so it keeps things warm and happy.

"Then I made my finger do something softer on Rezo's palm. And I said, 'This is yellow, or maybe let's say gold. So... so I guess things come from there. Lots of things.

"Next I drew atimider stroke….than the others, but…um, a nice amount of pressure went into it. 'This one is me,' I told Rezo. 'It's green like my eyes. And it's been lonely but now it's sandwiched in a buncha things. Because Red hugged it. Red's not perfect, but Red was really nice to Green. Because Red was born that way, even though Red…Red bled a lot. Since blood is red, too, right? Well anyway.

"After Green, I pushed Rezo's palm really hard and I made _you_, Stalactite Boy."

Zelgadiss had been listening with an odd mixture of exasperation and awe. At the direct, if insulting, address to him, he jolted. "Me? What the hell do you mean?"

"I mean I did Blue after Green. You're Blue."

"Oh…I…see. Go on."

" Maybe Green is Red's complement…but Blue is Red's real favorite. Red told me so himself. A bunch of times." The faintest resentment seeped into Fibrizo's voice, but he held it at bay with a pout.

Pangs of agony drilled outward from Zelgadiss's chest, an incredible almost crushing pressure, as Fibrizo's words registered. He sucked in his cheeks and looked away. "Whatever. Keep going."

"I told Rezo, 'blue iskinda really strong and there, and it tries to hold everything up.

"So then I made a smaller stroke…I was halfway down Rezo's palm now…it blended into the previous one. The blue. I said, 'This is indigo. Not everyone can find this one. But... but I'm gonna say it's Amelia. She's below Zelgadiss and holding him up, 'cause he needs her support.'"

A smile intruded upon Zelgadiss's brooding countenance then. "That so?" he rumbled.

"Yeah. That's so. Then on the bottom I made a final arc, darker and slightly wavy…it was like it was mischievously pulling the rug out from below everything else. Purple. Xelloss, 'cause he likes to be behind everything and knowing all of what's going on."

Zelgadiss actually laughed, a couple of stray snorts, at that one.

So did Fibrizo. "Yeah, I thought that was a good one. So. That was the rainbow I made for Rezo. He really liked it. And I told him I liked Red best, and Blue was pushy but strongest. And Rezo said Green could stay in the middle and belong somewhere. But then he added, _Blue_ was what made it possible for Red to be on top and hug everyone. He said Blue was Red's _hero_."

"Isn't that _beautiful_?" Ash's voice chimed in from the sapling, with a touch of weepy sentimentality, and a sniffle.

Zelgadiss couldn't breathe. He handed the sapling back to Fibrizo, and released his hold on the steering wheel. "Rezo said that…about…Blue, huh?" he half-wheezed.

_God DAMN it._

"Yup." The demon lord cocked his head. He stood on one foot, arms out, wavering like a bird, idly. "Still going in to port?"

"I…Where was it…" Zelgadiss grudgingly submitted to Fibrizo's prediction that he'd change his mind. He cleared his throat and buoyed up his grace and cooperation. "Where was it you said you wanted me to go, and why?"

"I'm the master of hell. And _death_. And that means, if I want, I can recall a life, too. But not by myself. Not at least…in this case. Father will be angry…if I do it by myself. _You_ have to meddle too. You have to be the one to really do it, Zelgadiss. Blue."

Either the boat tilted abruptly on an erratic ocean current, or Zelgadiss was light-headed from the sudden serendipity.

"WAIT a sec," he blared. "You're telling me we can…all by himself, with _no Shabranigdo_…we can resurrect…?"

_Rezo? _

"Yes," Fibrizo calmly intoned. His eyes shifted to and fro, like the eyes of a guilty schoolchild, at the ma-oh's name. "That's what I'm telling you." He flourished a hand, and a cloud of golden baubles materialized around his head. He plucked a particularly brilliant one with a glowing red aura from among the mass. "This is Rezo's soul in the afterlife. _Right here_."

Heart thundering, Zelgadiss made a funny little outcry. He lunged for that glowing marble unthinkingly.

"WAIT," Fibrizo hissed, cradling the thing out of reach. "You can't just _grab_ at it. You might _break_ it, and then he'll disappear for good! I've got to send you in there myself. And there's something really particular you've gotta do once you're there, in limbo. Where Rezo is. Because…father…father is there too. Father's ghost. The one we met in…inside the ghost Flagoon…and the one you…um…met in that Taforashia place. They can't get _peeled apart_ unless _you_ do it."

"…Why…Why _me_?" Zelgadiss breathed. His palms were outstretched still, cradling each side of Fibrizo's hand, on which Rezo's soul-bauble perched.

Fibrizo sighed and rolled his eyes, as though afflicted with the company of a mentally challenged toddler. "Don't you GET it? I SAID: _Blue is Red's favorite_. Red couldn't be on the top hugging all the other colors without Blue. Red NEEDS Blue. And Red always DID need Blue. Red l-o-v-e-s Blue, you cretin. In fact, if it weren't for Blue, Red would have been swallowed up by…by Black…for…forever. I can't give you any more hints, okay? It'll make father mad. Do you get it _now_, stupid?"

Zelgadiss just numbly nodded. He got it, alright.

"What _do_ I have to do in there?" he mumbled.

"Do you really _want_ him back?"

"Of COURSE I do. Damn it. I even did before I knew how much he…shit, just. Look. Blue freaking _loves Red, too_. That's why Blue _doesn't _mind _holding Red up_, and never did." Zelgadiss said it before he even knew what he was saying. Because it was true.

_Rezo. Gramps. I'm coming. _

A long silence.

"Oh," said Fibrizo, looking weirdly satisfied. "Oh, good. That'll make everything run _much_ smoother."

"Huzzah, Master Zelgadiss," Ash's voice sniffled.

"You have to _let go_ of something," Fibrizo reported. He tilted his head like a schoolmarm at Zelgadiss. "You have to make something break free. And change. Because…none of us can hide from change forever. None of us can stay stuck in something forever. You grasp that?"

"What do you m—"

"You'll know what to do when it's time," Fibrizo snapped. He readied the fingers of his free hand to snap them. "Brace yourself."

"Wait, Fibrizo. Just one more question."

"Yes?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because Red said Green can belong somewhere. Because Red's hands are warm and Red made Green get why things that aren't demons fight so hard not to be destroyed. By doing something other than…owning…another person. Green watched Red with Blue and… now Green understands a lot more than Green used to understand. Red trusted Green and let Green make mistakes and…_be_ Green. And Green will never forget it. That's why."

Zelgadiss could scarcely conceive of his own utter shock. Fibrizo was saying that Rezo's unconditional kindness had given him a respect for the living: even if he was still a dangerous mazoku lord. Fibrizo, the shrimpy, spiteful king of hell, had grown.

"I think I'm beginning to remember why they called my great-grandpa a sage," Zelgadiss mumbled.

"Bear that in mind," Fibrizo mandated. "Now close your eyes."

The Hellmaster didn't give Zelgadiss long enough to do so, before snapping his fingers and whipping out another golden marble, which he flung directly at the chimera. With an unceremonious "doink," it struck him across the brow.

"Good luck!" Ash's voice chimed.

Zelgadiss was about to grumble about the rudeness of throwing solid objects at people's heads, but he didn't get the chance.

His entire field of vision seeped gold. And then pitch black. There was a roaring in his ears, and the solid deck jerked out from under his feet, as though he were being forced with high pressure and velocity through the broiling waters of a hot murky ceaseless ocean.

He tried to speak, to implore the name of the person he sought: "Rezo?" he gurgled, and the blackness filled his lungs. He coughed violently, struggling to breathe.

Abruptly the propelling motion stopped, and Zelgadiss blinked as vibrant hues of green—moss, leaves, grass—orange—a fiery sunset throbbing through the green canopy—and brown—endless solid thick tree trunks—bled into his field of vision.

He was in a forest. An unnaturally quiet, still forest. A very, very. VERY. Familiar forest. He knew if he looked over his shoulder, he would see the gray stone precipice on a rolling hillside, of one of Rezo's old mansions. The mansion where Zelgadiss grew up.

This was the scene of Zelgadiss's transformation from a human into a chimera.

The exact place, and time.

Why the hell was Zelgadiss _here_?

"No…I don't want to be here…"

Zelgadiss stared numbly at the exact oak tree at which he'd hacked away that day, pushing himself, pushing himself so hard, exorcising the unforgivable weaknesses he perceived with every swing of his old dull broadsword. Inches from its abused bark.

Someone groaned. A warm soft weight pressed against his shoe.

Zelgadiss gasped and looked down.

There, collapsed on his back in the grass, cheek against Zelgadiss's foot, and gazing up at Zelgadiss with almost unsettlingly keen, ecstatic brown eyes, was Rezo.

"You're _beautiful_," the old man whimpered, reaching feebly upward. "Oh my gods, oh my _gods_…_you're so beautiful_…o-or, sorry, my boy, I mean _handsome_…hah…oh Zelgadiss…the things I did to you don't even conceal you…I know you, I would know you anywhere…and now I finally got the chance…to really _see_ you…b-but…_how_? _You_ didn't die. _No_. I wouldn't allow that…!"

He was a mess. Hair matted and disheveled, nose streaming blood, clothes shredded, limbs taut in some silent agony. Rezo was in his purgatory.

"Rezo." Zelgadiss said the name but couldn't say it loudly; it was as if all the air was knocked out of him. At once he squatted, bracing his kinsman's head up. "Gods, what…? What can I…?"

"Tell me how you're _here_, in this limbo," Rezo demanded hoarsely. He seized Zelgadiss's nearest arm. His hand, the hand which had reached out to Fibrizo in faith, to free him from the Hellmaster's Jar, looked as though all the bones had been broken and had regrown a bit crookedly, as with wracking arthritis.

"I didn't die. Fibrizo sent me. He said I had to… 'let go' of something, and that way I could resurrect you, just you, for good. What did he…?"

But Zelgadiss got no further. Something wrenched him away from Rezo. Something forced him upright, like he was inside the lens of a long-shot camera and yanking forward and backward in a jarring depth of field. He looked down in his hands, weighted by a familiar old broadsword.

And his hands were made of flesh.

A scream died in his throat, and his own lips were not his to control. He was rehearsing something, a script, an anachronism of over five years past, a sickening old script: "I want to be strong—strong—STRONG! Stronger for that great man! STRONG!"

Hack, hack hack, away at the tree. His human muscles ached. He was a mere teenager again, a young teenager, re-enacting the great IT which he could not release, or grow past.

IT: The moment when Rezo turned him into a chimera. The moment his innocence and trust in anything pure and good and safe died.

_Was it THIS he was meant to "let go" of, to save Rezo?_

_Was he supposed to FORGIVE Rezo? Was that the toilsome, hefty price? _

Zelgadiss hesitated, because he was not yet ready.

Then it sounded: the voice. The voice of the Most Trusted. The Parent. The Hero. The Red.

With those awful words, so snide and cunning and nearly manic, in the voice he knew anywhere, in his sleep, and yet didn't know at all: "You wish to be strong, Zelgadiss?"

Zelgadiss turned, clammy and pale, to face the specter of his assailant.

Now there were two Rezo's: the seeing Rezo, lying at his feet and crumbling, and the Rezo of the past, the Rezo of the Hellmaster's Jar, the Rezo of his nightmares and Taforashia's damnation, who stood there twistedly sneering, a snarl on his lips, a spell perched on his metal staff tip, crackling.

Zelgadiss knew it was coming before the anguish even set in.

"I will grant your wish," said the Rezo of the past, and behind him loomed a bloody black-red ghost, in the contorted, awful true form of Ruby-Eyed Shabranigdo.

A barrage of flaming crimson tentacles shot out of this Rezo's robes, his hands, his staff, and engulfed Zelgadiss, who could not help but shriek, as his body metamorphosed painfully into one of rocks and stone. Just as it had five years ago.

The Rezo of the present, still lying at Zelgadiss's feet, croaked, "_Get away from him_!" and wept, and rolled helplessly onto his belly. "I'm sorry, _I'm sorry, take me, leave him_…"

He reached toward the tableau that unraveled like red silk, like a broken record, like a skipping and rewinding film reel, over and over and over and over. Fruitlessly. For it was Zelgadiss who needed to let go now.

While fraught with misery, Zelgadiss tried to form the three crucial words in his head. He failed.

The scene began anew. Zelgadiss hacking away at the oak. Begging the gods to make him stronger for Rezo's happiness. Rezo with Shabranigdo looming behind and inside him. Rezo-Shabranigdo betraying Zelgadiss with pain and cruelty. Zelgadiss writhing and screaming.

It began again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Hours passed.

With each replay, the Rezo of the present, the Rezo without Shabranigdo in him, wept and wept and begged Zelgadiss to hear him and know how much he loved him, and frailly commanded the demon lord to let Zelgadiss go back to Red Orb and be happy.

A few more hours passed, as the broken record continued to skip along this one unforgiven, binding moment in the Greywers' history.

At last, something _changed_.

Rezo-Shabranigdo loomed up, like always. Zelgadiss stood clammy and paralyzed and in disbelief, like always. By now, he had forgotten where he really was, that he had a past, present, and future, outside this moment, and why he was even here in this limbo to rescue the kinsman who had hurt and broken him.

But then Rezo—the Rezo of Here and Now—the Rezo that had sacrificed himself twice on the whole world's behalf—crawled in between his past self and Zelgadiss, reared up, spread his shaky arms wide, and, face wrathful, used his last vestiges of strength to firmly declare, "NO MORE." He wavered where he knelt, ready to collapse.

And Zelgadiss stopped looking _back_ at the Rezo of the past, and the darkness, and Shabranigdo. He looked down, and _forward_: at Gramps.

Zelgadiss dropped the broadsword.

Zelgadiss braced Rezo's weary head.

Zelgadiss felt himself firmly, finitely a chimera again.

He didn't even care.

Zelgadiss broke the chain.

The moment hits us and always hurts, when we see our invincible elder—it could be a father, a grandmother, a mother, a guardian, a sibling…even a great-grandfather…show that they are human. Neither above nor below filth. Sometimes part and partisan of it. Zelgadiss saw that. He saw Rezo, the real Rezo, for the first time. A soul between light and darkness. Hands that infected and lifted diseases. Arms that repelled and cradled. A voice for screams and lullabyes. A beautiful, sick, wonderful, confusing paradox. An exalted and mere human being. Rezo. Gramps.

"Rezo," the chimera choked out, cradling his kinsman's head. "Rezo, I'm still mad at you, I'm still _so goddamn mad_ at you…but I…."

A heart that always loved, even when it allowed the unthinkable. Right?

_Right? _

"I…"

And then Rezo, the real Rezo, the Rezo of Zelgadiss's childhood and all his happiest memories, not perfect and not without terrible error, but still good and sincere and gentle and loving, the Rezo in Zelgadiss's arms, spoke for the first time:

"_I would go blind forever if it meant healing you_."

And Rezo's eyes glazed over, and no longer saw Zelgadiss, to prove it—a peculiar gold flecking peppering, now, his deep brown irises.

Gold like Hellmaster Fibrizo's soul-baubles…

No. More than that.

Gold like the Lord of Nightmares Herself.

The black-red presence that was Shabranigdo's trapped soul, with the smoldering image of the Rezo of the past, the Rezo in Zelgadiss's single worst memory, recoiled more at this than at anything else. "Stop…!" that Shabranigdo-Rezo gurgled.

Because Rezo's eyes submitted again to endless darkness…willingly.

It was the supreme act of love, the supreme tipping of the world's balance: It was _self-sacrifice. _

And somehow the kinsman whose love Rezo was on his knees seeking knew that it was forever. Rezo would truly never see again. No dark deals with demons, no cutting edge white magic, no shamanistic processes, could ever change that.

It was done. Even with Shabranigdo out of him for good, Rezo was blind.

And he had accepted it, a deal from the highest heavens themselves, simply to ensure that _Zelgadiss_ forever came first.

Something inside Zelgadiss collapsed, burst apart, and cathartically leaked, in that instant. "_Rezo,_ _I forgive you_," he declared. In a coarse, soulful whisper. Meaning it. With every fiber of his being.

Moving forward.

Growing.

Free.

And the Shabranigdo-Rezo screamed soundlessly and yet deafeningly, and shattered into a thousand pieces.

A void: Gone.

And the "real" Rezo sighed, turned his blind eyes adoringly up to Zelgadiss, and smiled. "It's over now," he said, touching his boy's face. "You saved us."

Zelgadiss nodded, and held him. The dark world around them broke apart, and all was buoyancy and light. "Are we dying?" he muttered, braced, as ever, for the worst, as the solid ground of the forest in a long-ago memory dissolved beneath them.

"No," Rezo softly laughed. "Quite the opposite, actually. Hold on." The gold in his blind eyes shone with particular brilliance.

There was a raking flash of white all around them, shimmering like a sunlit sea. The Sea of Chaos itself. Rezo smiled; he'd been here before, and he'd been called back to the living by the same person before, too: more than once. He never once removed his hand from the face of that person.

And Zelgadiss didn't buck Rezo's hand.

The world around them materialized again: and they were both lying side by side, smack in the middle of the pentacle seal of the city of Seyruun's holiest temple.

Zelgadiss blinked. "The _hell_…?"

"Not at all," Rezo slurred next to him.

Quite a few flustered old men in white robes, who had apparently been in the middle of conducting an ecclesiastical rite, were prodding at Rezo and Zelgadiss with their metal staffs of office. "I DO SAY, WHAT SACRILEGE!" and "YOUNG PEOPLE THESE DAYS!" were among the more polite things they were screeching.

Zelgadiss sat up, growled, and fended them all off like gnats with his rocky arms.

For some reason Rezo, alive again for a whole sixty seconds before being assaulted, was struck with intense amusement at the whole thing. He lay there helplessly bawling with laughter like a tall emaciated version of the Pillsbury Dough Boy, red robes strewn and limbs splayed in all directions, while one of the prunier old priests poked him over and over in the gut.

Zelgadiss immediately wanted to strangle his quirky kinsman. "A little HELP here?!" he roared.

A flurry of movement and familiar warm, soft arms around the chimera's neck deadened his homicidal impulses. "Zelgadiss!" Amelia cried, squeezing fit to pop off his head. "And…mister _REZO_?" Her sapphire eyes popped. "_HOW_?"

"A lonnnnng story," Zelgadiss groaned. "Involving me tipping the scale of the cosmos by forgiving a sincerely sorry old sage."

"Something like that," Rezo confirmed, sitting up slowly, and warmly smiling. His brown eyes were still flecked with the faintest of amber-gold.

A hand tugged on Zelgadiss's tunic sleeve. He glanced to his left to see none other than Fibrizo, trying to look down his nose at him, but not accomplishing much at his diminutive stature. "Well done," the Hellmaster said as loftily as he could.

Zelgadiss wanted to punch Fibrizo for his smugness as much as he wanted to strangle Rezo for his crazy mirth. "Gods," he groaned. "Where do I pick up you people?"

Amelia looked twice as bewildered at the presence of the mazoku lord, but she tried to shrug and blink it off. "You're just blessed," she chirped, and then she deeply kissed the chimera, her lips soft and swelling where his were hard and unyielding. A perfect fit, and again Zelgadiss realized how happy he could now allow himself to be. Very little could successfully unlock their lips.

"Ew," Fibrizo hissed. He tiptoed away from the egregious romance and circled his small white hand around Rezo's robe sleeve. "Hi," he said, almost shyly.

"Hi," Rezo replied. "Thanks." And then he enveloped the Hellmaster in a fatherly embrace.

"What for?" Fibrizo muttered, pigeon-toed but pleased.

"Helping Zelgadiss get to me. And. Growing. Whatever you are, whatever you've done, Fibrizo, you did _those_ things for me. For my happiness. Thanks."

Fibrizo nodded and stepped away bashfully, pretending to be busy with the golden balls flitting capriciously around his inky head. "Your eyes are a little different now," he noted over his shoulder.

"Everything is," Rezo beamed.

Amelia and Zelgadiss were still kissing.

"Er. Master Zelgadiss. I think this is yours: it just now appeared right next to you," came a familiar boom. Ash, looking healthier than ever, and clad in a new set of robes of the Priesthood of Sairaag: and holding a pink teddy bear.

Zelgadiss's pink teddy bear. The one Rezo had never given him, in shame of the mistake made by his blindness.

The bear was, before their eyes, seeping from pink to the color Rezo had always intended it to be.

Blue.

Zelgadiss's throat constricted. He seized the bear from Ash's hands. He moved away from Rezo and stood, and for a moment he held it like an infant. Then he cleared his throat and stuck it under his arm. "Thanks," he mumbled.

Then he looked down at his teddy bear again. His lip twisted a little. He handed the bear to Amelia. "Excuse me for a sec, Ame."

Zelgadiss walked over to Rezo.

Zelgadiss knelt where Rezo sat.

Zelgadiss punched Rezo in the jaw.

Amelia yelped, and Fibrizo gave an angry squawk.

And then, even as Rezo was reeling backward in shock and pain, Zelgadiss hugged Rezo. "You stupid asshole," he mumbled into the old man's shoulder, "I hate you." He hugged Rezo tighter. "So much." Tighter still. "You stubborn melodramatic dickhead. Welcome back."

"Zelgadiss," Rezo wheezed, "I love you too, but you're crushing my ribcage."

Amelia cooed an "aww." She gestured impatiently then, at the gaggle of old priests, who finally vacated the chamber.

Zelgadiss let go awkwardly and stepped back. He cleared his throat. "So no more lame charlatan's gags, old man. Are you really, _really_ back this time?"

"Oh yes," Rezo beamed, fingering his busted lip. "Yes, I am. Really. For good." For some reason he refrained from healing his own wound.

"…So. Recovery." Zelgadiss reached out and healed it for him.

Rezo sighed. "You didn't have to do that. So."

"I meant it, what I said…back…there…"

"I know."

"But…forgiving you…doesn't mean I trust you. Yet."

"I know that, too."

"Good." Zelgadiss shoved his hands in his pants pockets. "Then we're on the same page. Things can't just move ahead like nothing bad ever happened between us. So. I have a…proposal."

Rezo struggled to his feet, and leaned on his staff, which had at some point in this interim materialized. "Please propose away."

"Leave."

Rezo's face, his entire physique, appeared to crumble.

"For just one year," Zelgadiss elaborated.

Rezo gasped, and then sighed a quiet, acquiescing, and relieved sort of "ah," a sage sound if ever there was one, and nodded.

"Clean up your messes. Go to Sairaag and help it be restored, like that guy Prince Philionel brought to his court asked. For a whole year, help them, and stay away. If you're still truly sorry…then I'll meet you back here, in Seyruun, 365 days from now."

"More than fair," Rezo agreed, with a gentle nod of his head. "Because I love you." He smiled, and the smile reached his blind brown-gold eyes. Respectfully, he stepped back from his kinsman, already allowing him his space.

Zelgadiss felt awkward suddenly. He silently damned his pale blue cheeks for blushing so often and so obviously. "Right, so." His eyes flicked to the blue teddy bear which Amelia all but cuddled, with happy tears in her own eyes. "I'm sure Prince Phil will offer you something to eat and drink, and then uh. I'll. Be…seeing you."

"Yes." Rezo forced himself not to reach for Zelgadiss's face. "Yes. You will." And with that, he bowed his head in deference to his boy, turned, and quietly padded out of the sanctuary.

He wasn't alone for long. A familiar little hand tugged at the sleeve of his tattered red robes.

"I think I want to keep an eye on you for a little while," Fibrizo declared—imperiously, hands on hips. "Since yours are kinda gold now, but still don't work. I guess dumb old Ash can come, too. And be your vassal again."

Rezo placed a hand on the top of the Hellmaster's head. "Welcome, then. Let's go grow together."


	20. Epilogue: Cure

**Epilogue: Cure**

**~*One Year Later*~**

Today was the day of reckoning.

And it lived up to its expectations.

It didn't take Zelgadiss Greywers long to locate Rezo Greywers, this day, the day of their rendez-vous. Maybe their common blood made the search so easy.

He found, and watched, Rezo, wearing a humble but clean set of dull red robes and white overcloak, no longer bearing the ostentatious mantle of the socerer's guild and priesthood… interacting with a small cluster of Seyruunians who needed various scabs and runny noses healed.

A group of men in threadbare attire—construction workers and peasants—were conversing animatedly with Rezo. The sage sat on the ledge of a frilly public fountain of Philionel's father riding a pair of dolphins which were spouting water.

The topic of the discussion was all about the leaps and bounds of rebuilding and restored health the Red Priest had orchestrated in New Sairaag: as of yet, no explosions, ghostly possessions, or megalomaniac demon invasions had returned the city to a sad state of debacle. Its healing process was permanently forward-moving.

Growing.

One man, young and idealistic, held forth with particular zeal about how Rezo had generously donated the proceeds from the sale of all of his properties—a total of five enormous mansions with fully furnished laboratories—toward the restoration of yet another kingdom in ruins…

…a kingdom called Taforashia.

With a small, approving smile, Zelgadiss spotted Rezo flushing and murmuring at the gentleman to stop praising him with regards to this particular kingdom. After all, he said, he owed Prince Posel, trapped forever in the body of a plush rabbit, more than could ever be conveyed. He was only repaying debts and doing penance regarding various tragic errors in his own judgment in a not-so-distant past.

Nobody but Zelgadiss understood what Rezo meant, because Zelgadiss, Amelia, Lina, Gourry, and even Pokota had chosen to leave the Red Priest's reputation untarnished after the resurrection in Taforashia. Xelloss for his part hadn't given a damn and had agreed to keep mum on Rezo's past as well.

The Seyruunians shook their heads, shrugged, changed the subject, and kept entreating Rezo for modest healing miracles.

A cluster of children came up next and sat on the sage's lap, all together, giggling and touching his swishing plum hair and smiling slender face, and Rezo flailed and laughed, trying not to fall backwards into the fountain.

Zelgadiss watched for a long time, and almost expected to see Rodimus and Zolf and Dilgear and Noonsa in the crowd handing out bread and clean water, and he had to check his own hands to make sure they were still stone…that the past several years being a chimera had not just been a rich dream and nightmare from which he had finally awakened.

Or maybe in a way, they had.

He leaned against a marble pillar at the stairwell to the temple where he watched the scene at the fountain. He heard a small girl whose broken wrist Rezo had mended piping up, "Akahoushi Rezo, when did you first heal people?"

Zelgadiss was stunned to realize he didn't know the answer. Rezo had never discussed much of his past, except a smattering of extremely glowing and extremely dark single incidents in his childhood. The chimera barely focused in time to hear Rezo's response.

Rezo hesitated for just a moment while bandaging her wrist. "When my wife died," the sage quietly, patiently explained, "from a disease that I didn't know how to heal."

Zelgadiss gasped. He went rigid. Never had he or anyone else conjectured it, but it was the most logical, simple explanation conceivable. Rezo's obsession with healing himself and others derived from childhood trauma. But it had piqued when his wife, Zelgadiss's ancestor, had died: because Rezo had failed to help her.

Rezo continued explaining to the awed crowd. "I was impaired by being unable to see her and better treat her ailments…I started looking into cures for my blindness, too, after I failed to save her, and that…well that, regrettably, turned into an obsession." He twiddled his thumbs almost nervously. "I already had the urge to take up the career path before that, as I'd shown some skill in white magic as a child…but…I guess you could say the desire magnified a lot after I lost her, alongside my desire to see….but well…" He sighed. "Here was the real mistake…we had a newborn son. I gave him to a foster family so I'd be freer to research the cure to my wife's, and other, diseases. I should _never_ have revoked the privilege of parenthood and family. Never never, never. It took me _so_ long to get back what I took for granted and lost. I never knew my son and he too died young, of the selfsame illness…and I barely knew my granddaughter, who even kept my surname after she was married. But…" His smile was beatific then. "I adopted, and _well_ knew, her son, my great-grandson, after her death. His name is Zelgadiss. I'm here today, actually, to see him."

"That's the stoic little boy with the messy blue hair that used to travel with you!" an old woman with cured gout cried. "He lives right here in Seyruun these days, doesn't he? Prince Philionel got him knighted!"

"Yes," Rezo chuckled, "that's him. My hedgehog. Prickly on the surface, all softness and caring underneath. The sun."

Zelgadiss's throat was tight and he wasn't sure why. Suddenly the urgency of Rezo's desire to be anchored to him was justified, authenticated. Neither of them had known any family except each other.

Someone else interjected, "But, Lord Rezo, surely you feel that your many miracles justify what you sacrificed! Don't the ends justify the means?"

There was the most crucial question of all. Zelgadiss had waited the entire year to know that answer from Rezo, for good.

"No," Rezo declared, smiling. He held up both palms to stave off protests. "Small evils…aren't always erased by great good. Never fool yourselves into believing that they are, because later you'll find they _weren't_ 'small' evils at all. Another mistake of mine. No, I can't think of a single incident in my career that stands for my greatest pride. My happiness lies elsewhere now, and always should have." His smile grew hesitant, his hands clammy, but he said it, risking the humiliation should the recipient reject his affections. "My great-grandson—seeing him grown into such a remarkable and decent man—_that_ is my happiness. I can't even take credit for the better part of it. He is just a good, good boy, and my reason for…well, for everything."

That was all Zelgadiss needed to hear, and more. All he'd ever wanted to know, from Gramps. Relief swept over him now; he could give Rezo quarter without compromising his own principles. He was freed.

He stepped forward, into the sunlight, into the crowd, into scrutiny. "You rang, old timer?" he called, as casually as he could manage.

A collective gasp. Many townspeople had seen Zelgadiss in Seyruun with the crown princess, holding her hand, courting her, but not without his hood and scarf obstructing most of his face. In his haste to go to Rezo, he had forgotten his usual coverage. Now he stopped mid stride and gazed at the gawking beholders around him in horror.

But Rezo stood, Rezo cried "_my boy_!", and Rezo rushed over to Zelgadiss, seizing both his hands, in front of them all. He brought both of Zelgadiss's hands—rocks, pebbles, and all—to his face and his grin broadened still more. "Ever the dashing entrances, eh!" he chuckled, bubbly with relief.

The crowd watched for a long moment. And then, shruggingly, reassured and bored at once by the familial reunion, they dissipated.

Zelgadiss watched them go out of his peripheral vision. Slowly a smirk formed on his face. "Welcome back, old geezer," he muttered. "Looks like you kept your promise. There's a room in Seyruun's palace waiting for you."

"I'm _home_," Rezo gushed, squeezing his enormous gold-brown eyes shut in joy, squeezing his kinsman's hands in his. It made Zelgadiss remember exactly why he'd forgiven his kinsman.

"Hungry?" he breathed.

***********************************************************

Their first reconciled conversation took place at a bayside Seyruun café.

Ash and Fibrizo were still traveling with Rezo, and had been sent to an obliging candy store nearby to keep the Hellmaster suitably entertained.

The distant skree of gulls and the bell-like sound of Rezo's staff tinkling in the spring breeze made it all the more pastoral, elysian, safe. The two Greywers sat across from each other at a clean little table, sipping tea and coffee, respectively.

Zelgadiss started their talk on an oddly vulnerable and tangential note: "Amelia and I are engaged….and she's pregnant."

"Zelgadiss!" Rezo's face radiated approval—and relief. "How…? Well, I…! Congratulations!"

"Ah, uh, yeah thanks. Heh. Wondered if you might give the priest who's going to deliver the baby some ah….pointers. Because I remember a few times when you were up northwest, you were damned amazing at taking care of some poor peasant women's breech births, and the like."

Rezo put a hand on his chest as though to pledge it. "I will gladly consult with Amelia's obstetric priest."

"…Yeah. Good. So…so Amelia…" Zelgadiss turned his head to the side. "She…_is_ going to die before me. Because I'm a chimera and I age at half her rate…"

"…Correct." Rezo's heart gave a sharp pang. "Though, we'll just see about that. I subscribe to a lot of medical sorcery journals and longevity is a specialty of mine. I'll look into it at once. At _once_, my boy."

Zelgadiss tried to smile. Rezo's zeal was kind of…sweet…these days. "….do you think…?"

"I'll be there. If and when it happens. For you. I'll stick around, Zelgadiss." Rezo pledged it quietly, with serenity. "You won't grieve alone, my boy. I won't let you be lonely again. A few hundred more years stuck with me is what you get for being the most extraordinary person I know. Hah. If that grumpy old icicle Lei Magnus could get past six hundred, by the gods, so can I."

"…Gramps."

That Zelgadiss said the word was enough for Rezo to lay down his life for his kinsman, then and there. "Yes, my boy?" he asked, hoping somehow to infuse that devotion into his tone.

"…so. The Rezo…in the jar. The Rezo in Pokota's body, alongside Shabranigdo. He…you're not….him anymore…yeah. You're not him. At least not…in some ways."

"Thank you," Rezo interrupted warmly, with an elated smile, "for noticing."

"…Well it's pretty obvious."

Rezo decided to be self-deprecating. "Was he really profound?"

"What?"

"When you met him, last year. The me in the Jar. The er. Jar-Rezo. Was he very dignified, and impressive? Hah." Rezo sighed and quirked his lip. "Was he foolish and self-important, and myopic, too?"

Zelgadiss's frosty gaze now twinkled. "Well yeah. Jar-Rezo made a more formidable entrance than you, if that's what you mean. I guess Shabranigdo's influence made him grandiloquent. You were just _nerdy_, Gramps."

"Hmph, haha. Thanks?" Rezo's eyebrows knit good-naturedly. "I'll have you know that was me providing that grand entrance in the jar, anyhow."

"Huh? Really, now?"

"Mm-hmm. I kept sort of…waking up. Drifting off again. As the other me, and Shabranigdo, obtained greater and less dominance inside that…prison."

"So you were behind the sardine-head comment in the jar…man, you're always a knucklehead, heh. A big lame mystical dork."

"Ha! You. Don't be a snot!"

"Well, come on. 'Um, hi.' That's a pretty _lame _way to greet someone after being 'dead' for so long."

"_HA ha ha ha_!" Rezo threw back his head, shoulders shaking, with that startling, rich laugh, every single bark sharply and defiantly punctuated—that laugh that dared the universe to try and peg him as a mere demonic vessel.

As always it was oddly infectious, persuasive, like a wordless sermon on choosing to survive; Zelgadiss was smiling too, just a little bit. "Been a _long _time since I heard you laugh like that," he breathed.

"HM, hm, too true, it has been too long, and…" Rezo waved off the final stray guffaws, clapped his hands once, briskly, and summarized, "Famous I may be, powerful, perhaps, mm, even a bit talented, but your Gramps is also probably the lamest old nerd of Red Orb."

"Eh. That's okay. I'll keep you anyway."

"…Really?"

"Yeah. Really."

Rezo could have died happy then and there. How little we the young realize how great is our power to bring joy, or sorrow, to the elderly who adore us. Often we wait until it is too late to make full good use of that power.

Zelgadiss continued talking, no longer oblivious to that fact. Coming more and more to recognize it as the days passed, thankful that it wasn't too late after all. "Huh, let's see. The Jar-Rezo. He made it rain on us and that was kind of…funny. You know, I mean. He wasn't _all_ bad. He was a _little_ like you. He _did_ heal a lot of…well we had to make this monster stew, and then uh, there was this little blond kid, and he was blind. Bright green eyes…"

"That was me. In there. Trying to reach you. That was me. Yes, I…was awake here and there, after Shabranigdo pulled me in."

"That was _always_ part of you. Muted for a long while. Maybe…even crushed. But still there."

"…I hope so. That you say it makes me want to believe it. Yet…I heard myself in Posel's body, claiming that Taforashia was a necessary sacrifice. Willingly letting that other part of me resurrect from the jar to see this world one last time."

"But you said…"

"Maybe I took control of the dark lord when it mattered, maybe I made the good gamble and helped Lina Inverse to destroy him, the only way he _could_ be destroyed for good, by our resurrection and death, but…"

"_Rezo_…!"

"But I had to allow that awful creature to take me over in the first place, long ago. I am still a repulsive person."

"_Give me a break_!" Rage seized Zelgadiss. He slammed the table with his fists, and the contents shook and spilled. There was a viciousness in his pale blue gaze: but it wasn't resentful anger. Rather it was…a protective anger. An ardor in advocacy of Gramps.

He stood, towering over Rezo, as though doing so would impress his fierce logic into his elder's skull—and heart.

"Are you going to apply such _rigid judgment_ to others, or just _you_? Eh?! You TOLD us yourself: the REAL reason why you resurrected again was to get Lina t_o draw at and kill the last vestiges of Shabranigdo attached to your soul!_ Because like Xelloss said, _leaving_ you and Shabranigdo's ghost in the jar, whose magic was _wearing_, would eventually yield his _uncontrollable_ resurrection. _You knew that too_, once you got trapped in the jar! You knew you _had _to be resurrected, to be exposed to what would kill Shabranigdo AND you! You EXPECTED to die for GOOD and you were _willing to do so_ with seeing the world one last time as _consolation_, _not _as the _goal_! Seeing WASN'T your reason for your actions _this_ time. Saving the REST of us was! _You CHANGED_. You…you became the man I knew…growing up, again. It…it was…fine. It was _fine_. _You_ were fine."

Suddenly he felt stupid standing there. A lot of nosy tea drinkers gawked their way at his alarmingly sermon-like outburst.

One more thing he'd apparently inherited from Gramps.

Rezo's smile grew tremulous with fought-back tears. He covered his mouth for a minute, and took a deep cleansing breath. He let the absolving words that Zelgadiss gave him settle into his pores. Such sublime forgiveness. "Perhaps, yes. Perhaps this time around there was merit to my actions. But…I was cleaning up my messes at last, wasn't I? I am still so much weaker than many people, for all my so-called virtuous deeds."

Zelgadiss slowly sat down; he hadn't expected Rezo to allow his praise so quickly, and now his fierce protests had no target. His steam puttered out. He sighed, partially appeased, but persistent still. "Rezo. You're a _human being_. You've done atrocious things, _and_ wonderful things. Come on. You _have _to forgive yourself. I have. You have no right to _not_ forgive yourself, if I've forgiven you. If Posel has, and everyone else you hurt has, too. Do us the honor of being better for the _rest_ of the time you have. You came back for _some_ reason, you know."

"I came back because of _you_. It is as simple as that. To atone to you, because you were kind enough to let me."

"Yeah, I…know." Zelgadiss wiped some crumpet crumbs caused by his prior outburst off the café table. He flushed. Just…_forgive yourself_ and do _better _from now on…take _very good care_ of the people you hurt. Do _that_."

"….Yes. I will try. _Very, very hard_. My. You've grown wiser than I. Hm. I'm hardly surprised."

Zelgadiss cleared his throat. And then he watched Rezo, glowing with satisfaction, but hesitant, still, to reach out and embrace him. "Gramps, you can touch me, you know. I'm not uh. Contagious."

"I _know_ that…! Oh, but what would it matter anyway? My boy…" Rezo's hand brushed Zelgadiss's face, squeezed Zelgadiss's forearm, and then when he retracted his hand, he leaned his nearest arm, gently, against the chimera's. It was small, but it was human contact, and it felt sublime.

Zelgadiss found so too. "Anyway. That said, the Rezo in the jar, with Shabranigdo, he told me if I complied with him…"

Rezo's face contracted. "Ah. He told you he would give you what you needed to be cured….right?"

"…Yeah."

"And then he told you the 'truth,' at the worst possible time."

"Pretty much…."

"Oh Zelgadiss…that hurt you. I felt it. I was overcome by the other me, but I still felt it. When you were holding the jar and…oh my boy. How much that hurt you…but there were things that had to be said…I was desperate and I thought making you break the jar and kill me was the only way to prevent Shabranigdo from--"

"I know. I know that now. Just tell me…do you…think…maybe…"

"In a way it was…true. There _was_ no way that I knew of _then_…The means were lost somewhere in my laboratory in Old Sairaag when my clone burst it apart…and well, Eris did most of the work on the chimeras, really, and I just reaped the benefits like the parasite I was. Eris, who is…gone. I'm…sorry. So sorry. Every time I breathe I'm sorry. That I did it…" Rezo hated his hoarse, pathetic voice…. "and that I did it without knowing how to correct it. Reckless, selfish, and stupid, deluding myself into thinking I was actually granting you your wish for uncompromising strength. But Zelgadiss. I've spent the year productively. Look."

And Rezo reached down, and pulled out of the coinpurse in his belt…

Air.

…_Um._

The consternation on his face was almost comical.

"Oh, Fibrizo, REALLY," he pouted, with a heavy sigh. "Now is NOT the time for practical jokes."

Zelgadiss blinked, the humming monumentality of the moment slightly diminished by this interjection.

At the same time he was hardly surprised; Gramps had never been conventional, not even at his best, and it would be foolish to think Rezo would start living an ordinary and safe lifestyle now: traveling for over a year with the most powerful demon retainer, who had turned into something between diminutive sadist and imprinted duckling in Rezo's company, was just one indicator of Rezo's continued and probably eternal penchant to march to the beat of his own drummer for the mere sake of it.

At this realization, Zelgadiss somehow found himself more comforted than exasperated. He breathed a chuckle, shook his head, and waited.

The cloaked Hellmaster….who seemed oddly…taller than before, almost as big as Pokota's human body had been…trotted over from a nearby table where he had been eavesdropping, grinning fiendishly. "Sorry, but I wanted to see if I could still get you, Rezo," he trilled. "And I can, I can still pick your pocket!" And then he handed over a fat rolled up parchment with endless notes written in Rezo's flaring scrawl.

Rezo blindly cast Fibrizo a stern look. "Go sit back down at the other table till I'm done, you silly goose."

The Lord of Hell and Death, thus flippantly deemed a "silly goose," shrugged like a normal child. "Mkay. Whatever you want, Rezo." He skipped over to his seat and curled up in it like a wiry green-eyed kitten.

Rezo took a deep breath then, and handed the parchment over to Zelgadiss. "I've been working on it all year. It's the first set of parameters…ingredients, processes, locations to procure devices, ditto et cetera…for a chimeric process reversal."

"…you mean for…?"

"For your cure. Yes. Yes, my boy. For your happiness. It's all in there. The skeleton for a real cure. You and I will just have to flesh it out together."

Zelgadiss couldn't breathe. He simply. Couldn't. Or rather he was breathing too fast, too shallowly. His hands ground into fists until there was the sound of a hammer in a stone quarry grinding them. Everything he'd ever dreamt of obtaining and Rezo had truly kept his word, truly proven his sincere desire to repent, this time. The notes were full of marks of that sincerity: calculations and numbers, quotations from endless tomes, painstaking empirical tests…

"You really…did this for me…." He wheezed.

"All I did was start correcting the worst mistake of my life," Rezo murmured back. He felt for Zelgadiss's face, felt urgently, desperately.

Zelgadiss's hand closed on his and firmly brought it to its destination, and squeezed it. The chimera's eyes were stinging and when Rezo's thumb caressed his boy's cheek, a single tear drizzled down it.

"Shh," the old man said to the boy. "You can let go now. You've fought a long time, by yourself, bravely, and hard, my young knight. The nightmare's over. It's all clarity and light from here. All dawn. And Zelgadiss…I plan to test on myself first. No more lab-ratting of my kinsman. My boy."

Zelgadiss leaned his face into his great-grandfather's gentle and comforting touch, setting aside all care for how it might not seem tough, or independent, or masculine, for just one moment. This was the thing he had always needed: the reassurance that his childhood, and all the wonderful hopeful things in it, had not been an empty, shallow dream. The reassurance that the future could be as beautiful as much of the past had been.

He found his voice; it was husky but like Rezo said, it was strong. Because he believed in Gramps again. "You know…it was awful to hear you say that…last year, before Taforashia reawakened…and I really…lost it…when I found out even you didn't know how to…hn. But, look…don't be sorry…anymore. It'd help me too…if you'd let it go."

Rezo froze; his thumb stopped moving softly over Zelgadiss's face. "What?"

"Look. In a way, it's been a fun ride. I really am…close to invincible, in this body. And I think I learned that instant gratification isn't always the best route to a goal. Heh. Particularly when strength, power…independence…whatever you want to call it…is the goal. I should trust others more."

"And that's my fault."

"No. Not entirely. Some things you're born with."

"You're very generous, my boy."

"Ha. Not at all. Just honest. Anyway…even when hating my condition, I…came around to realizing that…"

"There are other things to be happy about."

"Yeah. Yeah, exactly…"

"And you can be happy despite your ailments."

"Yes."

"And you can put other things, other people, above being cured."

"Yes, I can."

Rezo smiled, a watery, shaky smile of fragile, reborn hope. "Well _here _is the miracle." He put a finger over each closed eye, and softly laughed. "_Me too_…Me too. I can, too. With _you_ around. _I can be blind and happy_." He shrugged, and laughed harder, incredulous and joyful at the liberation brought by saying those words.

Zelgadiss watched him, and looked through him, with longing eyes. "All the same…"

"All the same, we'll keep trying, you and I. To the ends of the earth, together. I'll get you cured. And this work I've done is a good solid beginning."

"And _your_ cure?" It was out of Zelgadiss's mouth before he could even consider what he was asking. He winced.

Rezo's smile tightened for a moment, but the pain, and whatever regret it held, quickly passed. "When you saved me and brought me back from the dead that final time, last year, what I said was true: to get you cured, I made my blindness more permanent than ever. It was a necessary and fitting sacrifice. I will never mix up my priorities again."

Zelgadiss peered into his kinsman's gently hooded, unseeing eyes, partly curtained by thick black lashes. Still that brown of fawns and chocolate, that pleading gentle shy brown, and yes, the gold flecks Rezo's irises had acquired were still there too. His own grief on Rezo's behalf nearly overwhelmed him, it hit him so hard. "I don't think you'd have made that mistake again," he could only whisper. "Are you _sure_…?"

"I'm sure. Anyway the procedure to remove the third of golem has nothing to do with it, but the procedure to remove your third of brass demon, to lure it out of you and exterminate it, will require the sacrifice of one of the five senses of a living kinsman." Rezo's voice never once lost its buoyancy as he stated this. "And if I'm not mistaken that would be me, and no one else. There you have it. I'm doubly blinded and that's that."

"Rezo. Don't you d—"

"Tut. It's my great privilege, Zelgadiss. With no hesitation and no doubt whatsoever. To help you be happy is my purpose and always should have been. Just thinking about it gladdens me. No misplaced guilt from you, do you hear me?"

"You're an idiot," Zelgadiss mumbled. _I love you and always have_, was what he meant. His cheeks and pointed ears reddened.

The old sage knew. "Of course I am," he shrugged. He _always_ knew. "Anyhow, we'll get your cure, and soon. Hum. You know…entertain a sidebar?"

"I always do, don't I?" the chimera scoffed.

"Yes. You're my good patient hedgehog. Here is my thought: I think we _already _found our cure, Zelgadiss. You're strong in other ways than a body of stone. I can see in other ways than through my eyes. We have _grown,_ my boy. We have grown."

A long silence, but Zelgadiss was smiling into it. Smiling quietly, and sincerely. "Could be," he breathed.

Their elbows, the edges of their forearms, were still touching across the tea table. Comfortable…was the only word for that barest of touches between them. Comfortable. Normal. Safe.

"…This sure takes me back," Rezo murmured. He laughed at a tear raining down his ivory cheek.

"You're telling me," Zelgadiss mumbled right back. He took a tea napkin. He hesitated. Then he reached out and, a bit roughly, wiped the moisture off of Rezo's cheek, returning, reciprocating, the gesture of moments past. "There," he grunted, tossing the napkin aside.

Rezo's heart nearly burst. He touched the place where Zelgadiss had made such a quietly caring gesture, and almost wondered if the act had been real.

But he didn't dwell on it long. It would just embarrass Zelgadiss if he had.

And, hopefully, it would be the first of many such gestures anyway.

"So…was I right, way back when we were about to fight that Zanaffar aberration?"

"Huh?"

"I mean…all the things I recalled." Rezo cocked his head. "Do you still like oatmeal for breakfast…with a dash of…curry?"

"…Yeah. Good memory."

"Some things you never forget, as long as you live and grow. And beyond. Like your favorite person's weird and slightly disgusting breakfast habits."

Zelgadiss barked a short laugh at this, and Rezo joined him.

"Okay, then, old-timer," said the boy to the old man. "Let's go get oatmeal. And pick up where we left off."

He took a few finger's-full of Rezo's robe sleeve, and guided him. And together they stood.

And together they walked: forward.

****************************************************

_"Been there before  
Slowly drifting out to sea  
Away from the tide  
And a darkness surrounds me_

_I'm out of hope  
I'm out of strength this time_

_I've never seen it  
No, I've never heard it  
I've never been it  
But I'm searching for it  
I've never seen it  
No, I've never heard it  
I've never been it  
But I'm searching for it_

_A breath of air  
A calm that surrounds me  
But I want to know how  
To let it inside_

_It gives me peace  
It frees this pain I hide_

_Cure, cure, cure, cure"_

_--Plumb_

_(Author's note: Thank you for reading, friends!_

_The beginning.)_


End file.
